Where the Leaves Fall
by tribolt2121
Summary: What if Middle Earth was not a fictional place? What if Tolkien was wrong about a few things? Maria, a down-on-her-luck 30-something takes a job as a personal assistant to Lucas Greenly, heir to Greenly Enterprises. Leaving behind her disgrace and humiliation, she relocates to Chesterwood, Massachusetts and finds herself surrounded by ethereally beautiful men and secrets.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

With a heavy sigh, Maria opened the driver's side door of her compact sedan and stepped onto gravel that comprised the parking lot. She slung her purse over her shoulder and pushed the door closed. A large, square, white sign indicated the employees' entrance beside a handicap-accessible door at the top of a handicap-accessible ramp.

She cast a quick, backward glance at her little sedan and proceeded up the steps that led to her new job. She pushed the door inward and found herself inside a long hallway illuminated by two or three chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling. Her soft, black leather shoes made no sound as she moved down the 1960s-style tile toward someone or something that could indicate where she should go.

An indeterminable amount of time later, she did reach the door at the end of the corridor. A large, blue square button was attached to the wall so that it could open the door. She briefly consoled herself that her new employer was at least ADAA-compliant. A solid shove pushed the door inward and into what appeared to be a main corridor of the house.

Maria stepped over the threshold and directly into an inhumanly beautiful creature. Two strong hands rested on her shoulders to prevent her forward momentum. When she glanced up, she required every ounce of self-discipline she had ever possessed to keep her jaw closed. The creature was like an angel, at least six-feet tall with blonde hair long enough to fall past his shoulders. His face was rounded with high cheekbones, a praetorian nose, and full mouth in contrast to his light blue eyes that seemed far older than the angle-man.

He wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved, beige shirt that revealed a very muscular, well-maintained body. The creature's blue eyes sparkled playfully and Maria felt a deep crimson flush rise in her cheeks from the embarrassment.

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, taking a couple of steps backward. He matched her movements.

"Whoa!" He said, a broad grin on his face. "Are you alright, miss?" Maria nearly melted when she recognized the British accent in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said with a shrug.

"You're here to see Lucas, I'd wager," he continued.

"Yep, that's right," she said, sticking out her hand. "Maria DiBella."

"Harold Lorien," he replied, his strong hand carefully gripping her much smaller one, almost as if he was concerned she might break. "Though Harold is such an old man's name so everyone calls me 'Hal'."

"Nice to meet you, Hal," she said, giving him a small smile. He turned her hand over and gently pressed a kiss against the back.

"A pleasure, Maria," he replied. "Come. I shall bring you to Lucas. He mentioned that he was expecting you this afternoon."

Maria forced herself to focus on the twists and turns through the corridors as Hal led her deeper inside the mansion. She was shocked to see such a large man move so fluidly. He was almost ethereal with his grace.

"How was your drive from Boston?" He asked her a few moments later.

"Fine, really," she said absently, observing the ornately framed paintings of bucolic scenes from myths and legends. "It's much easier to travel in the opposite direction of the commuters."

"I agree," he said, chuckling. "Alas, I rarely have the opportunity for such a stress-free drive since I'm usually one of the commuters myself."

"Do you work for Mr. Greenly?" She asked him.

"Yes, I'm head of security for Greenly Enterprises," he replied. "But Lucas and I go way, way back."

"Really?" She asked. "Just how far is that?"

"Here we are!" Hal exclaimed brightly, stopping in front of a pair of walnut doors. He lifted his hand to knock.

"Come!" Came a voice from the inside. Hal opened the door and stood aside so that she could enter first. What she saw absolutely astounded her. The ceiling of the room was vaulted and the skylight made of stained glass depicting what appeared to be fairytale creatures frolicking in a woodland setting. When she managed to bring her sight back down she noted the room itself was round and consisted of two levels that ringed a wide open center of the floor. Bookshelves had been built into the walls and stretched from floor to the bottom of the small walkway that provided access to the second level which consisted of bookshelves from floor to ceiling.

The ring was more of a horseshoe that stopped just fifteen degrees to the left of the entrance of the library. Large beige tiles stretched across the entire floor while oriental rugs covered swaths of the floor. Directly opposite from the door was a long, dark wooden table, three chairs pushed in on either side and a row of three green-shaded lamps had been placed in the center. The light was cast from small electric 'torches' recessed into sections of the book cases and what seemed to be a ring of lights placed directly over the shelves, shining brightly enough to be able to read the bindings on the books.

Maria was absolutely speechless.

"Quite impressive, is it not?" Hal said with a sense of awe in his voice.

"Very," she responded absently. That was when he chose to step out from the shadows cast by the large stone fireplace. She practically jumped before her eyes had a chance to see what her brain later labeled as masculine beauty.

When Maria had researched the famous Lucas Greenly she had been unable to find a single photo nor any quote or activity that had not previously been extracted from his company's public relations machine. In fact, other than a list of charities supported by Greenly Enterprises and Lucas Greenly privately, she had been unable to unearth any personal information about him.

Schooling her features to maintain a carefully neutral expression, Maria felt her heart pound. Lucas Greenly was breathtaking. He was six-feet tall, thin and muscular with a round face, chiseled nose, strong jaw and high cheekbones. The golden hair that was pulled back completed the effect. His hair had been pulled away from his face and she knew it was longer than it appeared.

A pair of sapphire eyes locked on her as he glided across the floor of the library. Lucas Greenly looked to be somewhere around Maria's age but a look in his eyes revealed a deep wisdom and knowledge possessed only by those far older. She stuck out her hand and forced her mouth to work.

"Mr. Greenly," she said. A small, lazy smile curled up the edges of his mouth as he accepted her hand.

"Ms. DiBella, you survived the trip from Boston," he remarked with only the slightest trace of a British accent in his voice.

"Yes sir," she replied. Behind her, Hal chuckled and Greenly's smile grew a little wider, patronizing.

"Please don't call me sir, it makes me feel … old," he replied. "Lucas is just fine."

Maria felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea but nodded her head. She saw little point in arguing over his preferences in the matter.

"Alright then, to be fair, please call me Maria," she replied.

"Fair enough," the man said softly. She noticed he had not released her hand. "We will review all of your duties and responsibilities tomorrow morning. I am an early riser and I begin my day seven. You will be given a key card which has been coded to open nearly every room in the manor and the front gate.

"Your weekends are, of course, yours to do with as you see fit. I am flexible as to vacations and holidays but I ask for advance notice so that I may make arrangements if necessary. Hal will give you a tour of the manor but do feel free to explore. One of my stewards will bring your belongings to your rooms. The staff typically takes their meals in the manor kitchen."

Maria did not like his brusque, arrogant way of addressing her but decided to simply ignore it. He would not be the first jerk for whom she had worked. She continued to nod as he spoke, tucking the details away into her memory. Her bigger concern was navigating the impossibly huge manor.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked, finally. She firmly shook her head.

"No, I think I understand the policies and procedures," she replied. Greenly nodded curtly.

"Very well, then I shall leave you to Hal and see you in the morning, in my study, at seven," he said, his stare on a point somewhere over her head.

"Have a good night," she said. He nodded absently, his mind clearly focused on something else entirely. Quickly, she turned away and glanced at Hal, who then offered her a soft smile and his arm. With a nervous smile of her own, she looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her from the library and the strange man who was now her employer.


	2. Chapter 2

The steward had the same kind of ethereal beauty as Greenly and the same liquid grace in his movements. His raven-black hair was shaggy and chin-length. Like Greenly and Hal, he had creamy white skin, a square jaw, long eyelashes, and eyes yet a different shade of blue - lapis lazuli. His name was Daniel and he appeared to be no older than twenty-five yet his eyes revealed he was far wiser and more experienced.

They met Daniel in the same spot where Maria had literally run into Hal upon her arrival. At six-feet-two-inches tall, he towered over her by more than a foot yet there was nothing menacing in his demeanor. When Hal introduced them, he smiled softly and gently shook her hand.

"Ms. DiBella, if I may have your keys I can bring your things to your rooms," he said, his voice had the same lyrical quality as Greenly's sans the British accent. Fumbling through her purse, she dug out the keys to her little sedan and handed them to the man. Long fingers wrapped around the proffered keys and he nodded to acknowledge his receipt.

"Come along Maria," Hal said, chuckling about something that amused him, and she suspected it was her. "At first, the house will seem overwhelming but in time you'll be able to find your way around blindfolded."

Hal started her tour in the Northern Wing. The Manor was comprised of four wings and three floors, not including the cellar and the attic. The library, where she had personally met Greenly, was located in the North Wing and took up the entire three stories plus about half of the wing itself. Farther down the hallway on the same side as the library was the ball room.

The ballroom was as high as the library but twice as long. Stone tile stretched from corner to corner in starburst patterns of brown, green, gold, and crimson against beige. White drop cloths covered tall structured that she presumed were tables and chairs. A fairly large riser stage adorned the center of the rear wall, directly opposite the entrance, and to the left she could see the outline of a large bar.

"Lucas hosts the annual New Year's Eve Gala for Greenly Enterprises executives and close family friends," Hal told her. Maria jumped and practically toppled over on the gorgeous blonde who had suddenly appeared behind her. He let out a hearty laugh this time at her near fall. 'Creepy' was automatically added to her list of adjectives for Hal.

"I'm sorry," he said, still chuckling. "It's a necessary skill in the security business." She tried to smile but was afraid it came out as a grimace. Hal's arm fell to her lower back to usher her out of the ball room.

"You will be heavily involved in planning the soiree," he added, closing the doors behind them. Across the hall was a formal dining room with a kitchen attached. Hal said the main kitchen was located in the Western Wing of the manor, but the kitchen in the Northern Wing performed double duty for both the formal dances and parties and dinners and smaller gatherings.

"Does he have many of those?" She heard herself ask as he led her toward the East Wing, arm still on her lower back. Hal shook his head and sighed.

"When his father Andrew was alive, he held a dinner or cocktail party nearly every two weeks and hosted a ball for each of the seasons, not including the holiday gatherings such as New Years, Christmas, and Halloween," Hal explained. "After Lucas' father passed away, Lucas shrank the festivities here at Greenwood so that now he throws the obligatory New Year's Gala."

"I see," was the only thing she could think of to say.

Maria's feet actually hurt by the time Hal started to lead her to her rooms. She noticed the only history of the manor he gave was that pertaining to Greenly's late father. The estate, she knew, was far older than Greenly's father but she decided any additional questions about the house could wait until later.

As they passed the entryway, Maria saw Daniel and a very tall, bleach blonde woman. Maria knew the woman was either a model or an actress. She was beautiful, perfect makeup, her shoulder-length hair was slightly wavy, light blue eyes, and pouty lips. The only flaw Maria could find was that her breasts were fake due to the fact they were disproportionately large compared to the rest of her of waify frame. She wore a bright red dress that absolutely screamed for attention, falling mid thigh and hugging her curves in all the right places. Her outfit was completed with a pair of three-inch Louis Vuitton heels.

"Hal!" The woman exclaimed, her heels clacking against the stone tile as she rushed toward the security officer. Maria watched Hal put on an absolutely charming smile though she could see something missing in his eyes that conveyed his dislike for the woman. "It's so good to see you!"

"Well, Anita, it's only been a couple weeks," Hal replied, allowing the woman to kiss his cheek in the European fashion. She all but ignored the smaller woman standing beside the blonde man. Maria was aware she was not terribly attractive, her total lack of love life a testament to the fact, but next to this goddess she felt homely.

'Ah well, if this is any indicator of the types of people that come and go, it'll be so much easier to blend in and disappear,' she thought wryly. Anita cast the smaller woman a bemused and disdainful look.

"Anita Wolferson, this is Maria DiBella, Lucas' personal assistant," Hal said, this time his smile took on a more genuine quality. She briefly sniffed before extending her hand toward Maria as if she was bestowing some favor on the other woman. Unable to resist the temptation, Maria gave Anita's hand a firm shake and smiled at the other woman. She was at least five years older and clearly accustomed to a certain lifestyle judging by the diamond earrings and matching pendant that hung around her neck, halfway into her cleavage.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Maria said. Anita's eyes grew wide as she detected the very subtle insult but said nothing.

"Well, if you'll excuse us, I need to be showing Maria to her rooms," Hal said, his hand on Maria's lower back once more.

"Yes, well, will you be at dinner this evening?" She asked him, a flirtatious smile on her face. Hal shook his head.

"Afraid not," he replied. "I'm having an early supper with the rest of the staff as I have to be in Boston around midnight to begin a new project." Maria shot him a look, slightly aghast that any project could possibly begin so early in the day.

"That's too bad," Anita pouted.

"Have a wonderful night, Anita," Hal said, gently kissing her perfectly manicured hand. He then swiftly guided her toward the large staircase to her rooms. Maria remained quiet but she did detect the vibe that the woman was more than a friend to her employer.

"A diversion," Hal confided once they reached the first landing.

"Excuse me?" She asked him.

"The bimbo," he replied matter-of-factly. "Lucas periodically has these short-term flings with women of a certain type. Mostly they are artificially enhanced in some way, actresses or models, and are shallow, narcissistic, and stupid."

"Oh," she answered, unable to keep the disgust from her voice. "I take it part of my duties will be keeping track of his, er, romantic interests?" Hal nodded but cast a gentle smile her way.

"Lucas has a system that you will learn," he said in a consoling voice. "This one is just about over and he won't seek to court another for several months." Hal shrugged as he stopped in front of a door at the end of the East Wing.

"Systems and routines are good," she acknowledged. He lifted a white card and flashed it across a gray sensor pad above the knob. A soft click indicated the door had unlatched and he opened it for her.

"Simple as that," he said triumphantly.

"Technology is wonderful," she agreed. She peeked inside to see her beaten, mismatched luggage and plastic storage cubes stacked near the door.

"Thank you, Hal, for showing me around," she said sincerely. His light blue eyes warmed a little.

"You are most welcome," he replied. "Mrs. O'Donnell has supper ready for the staff by seven. Would you care to join me for my last meal?" She laughed at the way he phrased it.

"I thought it was a project, not a firing squad," she joked. Hal smiled and shook his head.

"I will be indisposed for at least a month," he explained.

"Oh, I've had work like that before," she sympathized. "Barely have time to breathe much less see other living human beings not associated with the 'big project.'" She put air quotes around the last two words.

Mrs. Rachel O'Donnell was an elderly lady whose family had been employees of the Greenlys for at least five generations. She was medium-height, middle-aged woman with silver-blue eyes and steely gray hair wound in a messy bun on top of her head. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her slightly widened nose and she had a no-nonsense attitude.

"Master Harold, where did you find this pretty young thing?" Mrs. O'Donnell asked Hal. He grinned at her and pressed an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, now, Mrs. O'Donnell you'll always be my best girl," he teased her. "This is Lucas' new personal assistant, Maria DiBella." Maria automatically stuck out her hand to the older woman who proceeded to shake it firmly. There was a strength in her calloused hands Maria attributed to years of hard, manual labor. "Maria, this is Rachel O'Donnell, the best chef in New England and quite possibly the entire Eastern United States."

Mrs. O'Donnell snorted. Maria grinned in response to the woman's no-nonsense attitude.

"From where do you hail, young lady?" Mrs. O'Donnell asked, ignoring the tall blonde man.

"Originally, Rochester, New York but most recently, Washington, D.C.," she replied. Mrs. O'Donnell's silver-blue eyes studied hers for a long moment.

"You are a highly educated woman," she remarked. "But you're not here because you want to be. You're here because you have to be." Maria forced her jaw to remain closed and her face into its best poker expression. She nodded a moment later, rewarding the woman with a smile but she did not volunteer any additional information.

"What's for supper Mrs. O'Donnell?"

"Wey bread if you don't calm yourself," she said. Apparently, the threat of wey bread was enough to silence Hal. The woman turned her attention back to Maria. "Chicken and gravy with roasted autumn vegetables." She winked at the younger woman.

The kitchen was a gourmet chef's dream, outfitted with stainless steel appliances and built to meet the needs of a restaurant. A large, eight burner stove with broiler was flanked by a gigantic refrigerator freezer. Utensils dangled from a suspended rack over an enormous island. Behind it was a breakfast bar that separated the kitchen proper from what appeared to be a dining area.

Maria could see none of the small, round tables were occupied. Mrs. O'Donnell busied herself with fixing plates for the both of them, humming something that sounded vaguely Celtic to Maria.

"Go and sit," she ordered them. Hal gestured for Maria to walk ahead of him then pulled out a chair so that she could sit. She was bemused by the almost instinctive gentlemanly behavior of the man.

"Perhaps working with a beautiful young woman each day will stop the endless parade of floozies into this house," Mrs. O'Donnell grumbled as she set the plates and silverware on the table. Maria felt the heat rise to her face in embarrassment.

Hal chuckled before he tucked into his meal. Maria eyes the dish for a few moments. Mrs. O'Donnell was definitely more than just a private chef. Her presentation alone, with the parsley and the artful swirl of the gravy over the white meat indicated she had been trained.

"Mrs. O'Donnell, where did you attend culinary school?" Maria called out. The elderly woman turned, a warm smile on her face.

"New York, Los Angeles, Tuscany and Paris," she replied proudly. "The late Mr. Greenly paid my tuition." Her face fell for a moment, reminding Maria that Andrew Greenly was a touchy subject. At some point, she resolved to look up his obituary to find out just how long ago he died.

"How did you know?" She probed, bringing a pitcher of water and glasses to their table.

"Your presentation is impeccable," she replied before forking another bit of chicken. "And your portions are perfect."

"You seem like a bit of a culinary expert," Hal remarked, eyeing her coyly from beneath his long eyelashes.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Just been to enough cafeterias, diners, and respectable eating establishments to see the difference in the way I receive my food. Ninety-eight percent of the time, the food tastes terrific but it's not always … pretty to look at before I dive in."

Mrs. O'Donnell chuckled at her observation while Hal smirked.

"I think you've made a best friend for life," Hal said in a whisper loud enough for the older woman to hear. Maria shrugged, cutting her chicken into smaller pieces before stabbing the meat and more vegetables on her fork. Hal watched her with a grin that betrayed amusement.

"I never claimed to have manners or class," she told him.

"I doubt anyone would ever make that mistake," Hal replied, smirking at her. Maria rolled her eyes at his attempted wit and continued to devour the delicious food.

"You need not worry in my kitchen, Ms. DiBella," Mrs. O'Donnell said, shooting a glare at Hal. "When someone attacks their plate like that I feel I have made a good supper. The rest of the staff eat in that frou-frou, European manner."

Maria immediately brought her napkin to her mouth while she laughed openly at Mrs. O'Donnell's characterization of European-style dining habits. Hal genuinely seemed offended and upset, making an exaggerated show of using his fork and knife to slowly, almost daintily, eat his own supper.

"The food is tremendous, Mrs. O'Donnell," Maria acknowledged, watching the woman beam broadly. Hal muttered something under his breath that Maria chose to ignore.

When they had cleared their dishes and silverware, both Hal and Maria made their good-nights to the chef. Mrs. O'Donnell simply nodded and proceeded to clean her kitchen.

"Where was everyone else?" She asked him as they walked toward her rooms.

"Some of Greenly's employees have lives," he replied, shrugging. Maria decided to allow the matter to rest. There would be plenty of time to meet her co-workers later.

Maria and Hal said their good-nights beside her door. She watched the tall man saunter away, his long blonde hair swinging behind him like a rope, and she wondered when she would next see him.

Tired, though still keyed up for her first day, she proceeded to unpack and put away her belongings.


	3. Chapter 3

Insomnia descended upon her like a storm. Maria had put away her clothing in the closet, put her laptop and printer on the large desk, and spread out her toiletries in the small, private bathroom. Her mind continued to churn with hundreds of thoughts and questions that could not be answered in one night, or even a day.

First, she tried to read something that would eventually settle her thoughts. Her Kindle had an enormous collection of fantasy and science fiction that she had not yet touched. She settled on David Yardling's newest installment in the Rainbow Sprites series. Three hours later, halfway through the novel, she was no sleepier than she had been when she first returned to her room.

Next, she tried running in place to exhaust herself. She only succeeded in adding to the throbbing pain in her feet. She then tried a warm bath but even that failed to silence her mind.

Finally, she decided to wander through the manor and become better acquainted with the layout. Quietly, she walked down the corridor that led to the second-floor landing. In an old building, she expected some sort of shift in the foundation, the creak of wood, even the tick of a clock, but the silence was as heavy a wet quilt.

A loud scream shattered the silence. Startled, Maria jumped and fell back on her bottom. She swallowed the grunt of pain, thankful she wore an old tee shirt and yoga pants for pajamas. The scream came again, louder and longer this time, from the direction of the West Wing.

Slowly, she moved toward the sound. As she drew closer, the screaming became even louder. Ten feet away, she could see a yellow light spill across the stone tile of the floor. A sense of dread descended upon her as the tumblers in her mind fell together to inform her that she was practically invading an intimate moment.

A loud, guttural, masculine moan confirmed her suspicions. Drawn by some unforeseen force, she crept closer while she tried to remain in the shadows. She could see the long blonde hair that hung halfway down a slender muscular back. Shoulders were heaving and Anita's familiar voice muttered something she could not comprehend.

His face turned sideways so that his handsome features were visible in the yellow lamplight. His eyes were closed and Maria could not help but be reminded of the paintings of angels. His eyes started to flutter open and she reflexively pulled herself back into the shadows. She cringed, the full reality of what she witnessed crashed down upon her and she felt the urge to sprint from the intimacy as quickly as possible. Internally, she railed against herself for behaving like a voyeur.

'God, he's so beautiful, even in the midst of passion,' she thought. The word 'passion' reminded her of what she had witnessed. 'How the hell am I going to face him tomorrow?' The more pressing issue was how to return to her room without being noticed.

The matter took care of itself as the sound of voices bubbled up from inside the room before she heard a door close with a solid thud. Glancing around in the darkness, Maria darted from the West Wing as quickly as possible. All the while she scampered, she made a mental note never to enter that part of the manor again.

XXXX

Maria stared at the ceiling of her room. Her alarm had not yet sounded but could see the sky outside her window while it changed from pitch-black night into hazy early-morning purple. She pondered whether formal business or casual business would be a better choice for the first day. No one had mentioned a dress code yesterday.

Settling on business casual, she pulled out a pair of khakis, flats, a cream-colored shell and a blue blazer. She showered, dressed, did her best to style her thick, unruly hair, and put on some jewelry. As she slipped on her shoes, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place.

The only thing Maria recognized in her reflection were the hazel-green eyes that stared back at her. Any vitality she had once possessed was long gone. In its place was a woman with bags under her eyes and the posture of someone who had been dealt many blows, more failures than she could tolerate.

She quickly put some concealer under her eyes to lighten the almost bruise-like darkness beneath her lower eyelids. She did not want to hear the same inane remark over and over through the course of the day, 'You look so tired.' Finally satisfied she was presentable to the general public Maria left her room for the North Wing of the manor.

Greenly was already in his study when she arrived. Maria was a little surprised to see him so early considering his late night activities only a few short hours prior. He wore a pair of khaki, thin hunter green sweater, and his golden hair was neatly tied back. His facial expression was completely neutral and gave away none of his thoughts or emotions.

Maria felt a wave of envy for his energy reserves and his perfection. She wondered if the man knew the meaning of the words, 'bad hair day.' In his left hand he clutched a tablet and by the way his eyes swept back and forth, she presumed he was reading.

"Come in Maria," he called out without lifting his eyes from the screen. "Have a seat."

Maria entered the room and almost immediately wished she had not. Chaos did not adequately describe the condition of the study. Stacks of hard-covered books, some with titles in foreign languages, were randomly placed throughout the room. The desk appeared to be awash in a sea of white paper dotted with paperclips and pens. A black plastic edge stuck out on the corner of the desk near the stone fireplace and a closed laptop had been placed in the opposite corner, the power cord buried.

"The word you are searching for is, 'disaster'," Greenly said a few moments later.

"Oh, I thought it was just organized chaos," she replied.

"If only," he sighed, finally putting down the tablet and bringing his sapphire eyes to meet hers. "Organizing it will be one of your first projects." Maria swallowed and nodded, anticipating many long, back aching hours in the study.

"The mail arrives at eleven, at which time the carrier also picks up any and all mail that is outgoing," he told her crisply. "It will need to be sorted on a priority basis. You'll see solicitations for large donations, offers for naming rights to buildings, invitations to various events, thank-you cards, and, of course, junk mail."

Maria nodded and committed the instructions to memory while she internally berated herself for not bringing something on which to take notes. Fortunately, the lyrical quality of his voice kept her attentive in the face of caffeine deprivation headache.

"Mrs. O'Donnell?" Her head snapped up to see Greenly's stare fixed on the telephone that had miraculously appeared from beneath the mountains of paper.

"Master Greenly," the woman's voice sounded small and strained.

"Please prepare a carafe of coffee and have it sent to my study immediately," he continued, his eyes briefly met hers before they returned to the plastic box.

"Certainly, sir," Mrs. O'Donnell replied. "And, if it's alright with you, I will simply add it to my morning list. I suspect Miss DiBella is not a morning person."

Maria visibly winced that her boss had read her so easily. She had never made any secret of her predilection toward coffee but her chemical dependency was something she tried to keep private.

"Please do, Mrs. O'Donnell," he replied. He lifted the receiver and returned it to the cradle, ending the call. His gaze returned to hers.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "How did you know?"

"There is a slight tremor in your hands," he replied softly. She turned her face away, embarrassed she was so easily read. Her poker face needed work.

"Oh," was all she could think to say.

Not five minutes later, the chef appeared personally with a huge bronze-colored carafe, mug, creamer and small bowl full of sweeteners. She smiled at the younger woman and put the tray on the lone empty space on the mantle.

"Good morning Ms. DiBella, Lucas," she greeted them both.

"You did not bring me a cup?" Greenly inquired, batting his long eyelashes at her.

"The day you start drinking coffee is the day Prince Charles proposes to me," Mrs. O'Donnell replied dryly. Maria could not help but laugh at the exchange between the two and how Greenly remained unfazed by the chef's remark.

"I shall expect an invitation to the wedding," he replied, smiling with an artificial sweetness that irritated Mrs. O'Donnell. Rolling her eyes she left the room, grumbling as she went, and they were once more alone. Maria fixed her coffee, grateful for the beverage that would relieve her growing withdrawal headache.

"Alright, the first thing I need you to do is sort through this week's mail," Greenly told her, handing her a banker's box. It was practically full. The first return address stated the letter had come from the New England Chamber of Commerce. Maria proceeded to rip open the envelopes and sort the correspondence, solicitations, and membership renewals.

After she finished the mail, Greenly directed her to start to organize the study in whatever logical way she could devise. The first thing she did was shove the books into any open spaces on the bookshelves, vowing to alphabetize them later, and opened up a great deal of floor space to move around.

"Um, when do you go into your company's offices?" She ventured to ask at around 11 a.m.

"Generally, I don't," Greenly replied. "I prefer to work from home and I have been fortunate in that there is technology that allows me to do so." Maria nodded to indicate she understood though she clearly could not imagine enough work for the man to need a personal assistant.

'A job is a job and this one comes with benefits,' she thought. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and she saw Daniel standing outside the study with what appeared to be more mail clutched in his hand.

"Good morning Daniel," Greenly greeted him. "Carrier came, I see."

"Good morning to you too Lucas, Ms. DiBella," Daniel replied.

"Oh, goody," she muttered. Daniel gave her an almost sympathetic grin and she immediately grew suspicious. "I'll take it. Anything good?"

"I'm just the messenger," Daniel replied cryptically, smiling ominously.

The first piece of mail was a small, square envelope addressed to Lucas in computer-generated calligraphy. On the back was a sticker seal with the words, 'Massachusetts Historical Society' around what appeared to be a coat-of-arms. She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the concept of a coat-of-arms in the United States.

On a neatly folded piece of white paper was an invitation for Lucas Greenly to the twenty-fifth annual Massachusetts Historical Society Masque slated for 8 p.m. on October 31, 2013. An RSVP reply date of October 14, 2013 was requested. She placed the invitation in the 'clubs, societies, and organizations' pile before she continued with the mail.

Greenly snatched the invitation off the top of the pile and stared thoughtfully at it for a few moments. Maria ignored him and opened an actual handwritten letter from V. Tuniviel in Manchester, England. In an age with text messaging and e-mail, a handwritten letter was almost like a quill and inkwell in the modern era – useful but impractical.

Not wanting to intrude on Greenly's privacy, she placed the letter back in the envelope and placed it in the 'correspondence' pile.

"Maria," Greenly finally spoke to her. When she lifted her head, she saw that he was staring at her intensely as if she was the only other person in the world. "I have a teleconference this afternoon that begins at two but there are a few things that I would appreciate if you would have finished before five."

"Okay," she said as she shrugged.

"First, I need you to contact a florist and have a fall bouquet sent to Anita Wolferson," he said. "The card should say, 'It was a lovely time' and include my name. Next, I need you to write refusal letters to SPCA, the Red Cross, and Daughters of the American Revolution."

"Do you want me to leave them on your desk to be proofread before they are sent?" She asked him quietly. He shook his head.

"I trust you," he replied, offering her a smile.

"Wow, you don't know me and you trust me to _not_ embarrass in you in writing," she replied. "That's okay, though. I thrive under pressure." His smile became a genuine amused grin.

They broke for lunch at noon. Maria brought the tray with the coffee service to the kitchen. About ten people sat in the dining area, including Daniel who waved. A grizzled old man wearing a blue flannel shirt sat beside a younger, red-headed woman, perhaps in her forties, who looked as if she could be his daughter. Across the table from the red-head was a woman with ash blonde hair, also wearing a flannel shirt.

An extremely tall, lithe young man leaned against the wall by the window. His eyes were the same crystal-blue color as Hal's and, like Daniel, he had the same ethereal masculine beauty. His auburn hair disappeared behind his shoulders.

A group of five young men, all with various shades of brown hair, were seated at the table closest to the rear door. Their grease-spattered appearance clearly identified them as mechanics. She wondered how many vehicles were on the estate to need that many full-time mechanics.

"Lucas, have you lost your way? This is the _kitchen_," Mrs. O'Donnell teased him. Maria turned to see Greenly leaned against the island, his eyes fixed on the opposite counter where biscuits, roast beef, and green beans were ready to be served.

"Mrs. O'Donnell, I'll have you know that not only do I know where the kitchen is but I can also use the microwave, all by myself," he replied, smiling at her. Maria noticed the man had adorable dimples when he grinned.

"Then what's the special occasion?" she asked him while she started to fill plates. Maria leaned over to grab a couple and help but she was shooed away.

"No special occasion," he replied. "I did not wish to eat alone today."

From beside Daniel, she watched Mrs. O'Donnell's eyebrows go up in clear surprise. There was something more beneath his statement.

"How has your first day been thus far?" Daniel asked her.

"Fine, except some jerk brought me a fresh pile of mail after I had just finished sorting the last week's worth," she replied, nudging him.

"He's an ass and his name is Daniel," the woman with ash blonde hair remarked, turning around. She had a kind smile but was clearly a pragmatist. Her gray-blue eyes did a quick sweep of the younger woman.

"Margaret McEvoy," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "You can call me Maggie. I work in the estate stables. That's my husband, Joe, and my stepdaughter Nichole."

"Maria DiBella," she introduced herself. Nichole's attention appeared to be distracted by the handsome master of the house who proceeded to sit across from Daniel with a plate. She barely noticed Mrs. O'Donnell set the steaming food in front of her.

"Hi, I'm Julian Tierney," the beautiful auburn-haired man said in a fairly thick Irish brogue. "I'm the groundskeeper."

"Resident treehugger is more like it," Joe McEvoy's voice rumbled from his seat, causing everyone to laugh.

"And Joe talks to the horses," Julian added with a small smile. "Though he won't tell you that he's a horse whisperer. A little embarrassed I think."

"Go sing to some flowers, hippie," Joe growled.

"Just don't you start singing Joe," Greenly advised him.

"Can't carry a tune Mr. McEvoy?" Maria asked him.

"No, the only songs Joe knows are lewd sea chanties he learned from his father," Daniel replied. Maria chuckled at the revelation.

"So, Maria, where are you from?" Julian asked brightly, eager to change the subject.

"D.C.," she replied.

"Got tired of the city life and decided to give the country a go?" He asked her.

"Something like that," she murmured, trying not to allow her irritation to show in her voice or face.

"It's really not so bad here," Julian tried to assure her. "When things grow dull, as they do anywhere from time to time, Boston is only two hours and New York is three. But you won't want to go to either city once the gardens start to bloom at the end of spring."

"Dear God, the man's ego knows no bounds," Maggie moaned.

"Jealousy is a nasty thing, love," Julian retorted.

"How long have you all worked at Greenwood?" She asked. "And why aren't the grease monkeys at the other table talking to us?" Joe glanced over his shoulder and shook his head.

"They're all good boys and they really aren't trying to be rude, but they get to talking shop over lunch and – ."

"It's unbearable," Nichole finished for her father. "Anyway, my father has worked here for forty years. He started out under Andrew Greenly and just stayed on. I started here part-time while going to school about twenty years ago. Maggie's worked here for about five years now."

There was more to the McEvoys but she was willing to allow it to lie for now.

"Don't let the kid fool you," Maggie said. "She's the resident veterinarian here, not just some lowly stable hand like Joe and me." Nichole rolled her eyes at her stepmother's remark but there was no malice behind it.

"I've been here about five years," Julian explained. "I was hired after Manuel, the prior groundskeeper, passed away." He had not really answered the question either but there would be time to find out the details later.

The mention of Manuel cast a shadow over her co-workers and boss. Yet another awkward moment in less than twenty-four hours; she was on a roll. Daniel smiled sympathetically and patted her hand, his long fingers and large hand practically covered hers while her skin tingled at his touch. Maria assured herself it was just a combination of nerves and the fact it had been over a year since she last had sex.

"I have been here for about ten years," he said. "I am originally from Portland, Maine, but my father works for Greenly Enterprises. That is how I met Andrew and Lucas. She nodded her head but could not shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

There were too many secrets in Greenwood.


	4. Chapter 4

The Sword and Chariot was a pub in the British tradition located in the heart of historic Chesterwood. Even the sign for the establishment reflected its Old World roots: A dark blue, rectangular wooden board with the name carved in Old English script painted gold within the grooves that formed the letters. A simplistic Roman-style chariot and a small sword were painted beneath the words.

When Jen had texted her, she had not bothered to ask Maria but instead had already selected the old pub and told her what time they would meet. She knew it was just Jen's way of showing that she cared and she could not honestly stay she did not appreciate the excuse to get away from the estate for a few hours.

Maria's co-workers had given the place a ringing endorsement except for Mrs. O'Donnell. According to Maggie, the chef had some sort of "history" with the owner. She did not elaborate and Maria determined it would be better not to ask.

Maria buried her hands in her coat pocket as she crossed the street. In spite of the rain and gloom, the wind had completely died so that not even a breeze disturbed the trees and flags that hung beside the entrances to the businesses.

Outside the tavern, her old college friend Jen stood fiddling with her cell phone. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a dark gray pea coat, her friend was still every inch the fashionable young socialite who shared her freshman dorm room twelve years prior.

"Ree!" She shrieked, her wedges clopping against the sidewalk as she drew the smaller woman into a hug. At five-feet-seven-inches tall, Jen usually towered over Maria but the wedges added an extra imposing height. Jen gently shoved her toward the entrance.

The hostess was a young girl, a red-head like Jen but her hair fell all the way to her waist. She smiled at the two older women and promptly brought them to a table in the back room. Maria glanced around to see that the room decorated much like a working-class Victorian public house.

"Enjoy," the hostess said as she placed the menus over the appetizer plate in front of each woman.

"What are you getting?" Maria anxiously asked her friend.

"A diet soda, or Diet Coke, isn't that what they call it in New England?" She said, her rouged lips curling upward. "You're going to get coffee and water. Same ol', same ol'."

Maria laughed and nodded her head. The sense of normalcy soothed her frayed nerves. She allowed her eyes to drop back to the menu and determined she would get New England clam chowder. Her stomach had not handled food well after supper on her first night.

"So, tell me about this boss of yours," Jen prodded her. "He's very media shy. I found one picture of him and it was taken ten years ago, when he first became CEO of Greenly Industries. Maria winced at her friend's choice of conversation topic.

"Why don't we _not_ talk about this job?" She countered.

"Because it's the thing that's going on in your life right now," Jen replied flatly.

A moment later, a young, handsome chestnut-haired waiter appeared at the side of the table. His attention was focused entirely on the red-head. She placed her order, giving the young man a radiant, flirtatious smile. Maria glanced only briefly at the waiter, who suddenly appeared far more interested in his order pad, and gave him her own drink order.

"I don't know Jen, it's a job," she replied in exasperation, hoping she would take the hint and change the subject.

"So what's your boss like?" Jen asked, a curious sparkle in her blue eyes.

"He's a boss," Maria replied, annoyed. "So far, so good."

The waiter suddenly reappeared and placed their drinks on the table. The women gave their food orders and Maria quietly hoped Jen would move on to some mundane subject.

"Well?" Jen prompted her once the waiter disappear again.

"It's a deep subject, don't fall in," she quipped in response. Jen's smile faded around the edges a little bit. "Sorry, I've been suppressing my sarcasm and wit all week."

"You must be in hell," Jen remarked. Maria shook her head mournfully, the sounds of Anita's passion from the other night came back with a vengeance and she winced.

"You have no idea, dude," she replied. "The first night I was there, I had one of my wonderful insomnia-filled nights so I decided to wander around the manor a little bit. My boss had his girlfriend over and …."

"Oh gods, you did not!" Jen exclaimed, a grin on her beautiful face.

"Um, _didn't go inside_ or anything but I imagine it's kind of how most people feel if they walk in on their parents," she grimaced. Jen was laughing so hard that tears started to stream down her face. "I think I'm scarred for life."

Two bowls of New England clam chowder appeared on the table just as Jen began to calm herself. Maria spooned the creamy liquid over and over as steam continued to waft upward.

"I think you're jealous," Jen replied, dabbing her eyes with her napkin. Maria arched an eyebrow, waiting patiently.

Her spoon fell against the side of the bowl with a clatter. Maria glared daggers at her friend. Under any other circumstances, the remark might have been pretty funny but she was still attempting to adapt to Greenly's strangeness and the mysteries that surrounded the estate.

"Of what?" She demanded.

"How long has it been since you got some?" Jen rejoined her.

"Ouch, that one hurt," Maria pouted. "Hey, I'm willing to take full responsibility for the fact I was there and heard them but let's leave my libido, or lack thereof, out of this. Besides, I've developed my own theory."

"Oh?" Jen raised her eyebrow. Maria nodded firmly, sipping her soup from the large spoon.

"Karma," Maria replied. "Either I did something really bad that I forgot about in this life or something I wouldn't be aware of from a past life."

"You don't believe in reincarnation," Jen pointed out.

"So?" Maria retorted, unwilling to budge an inch. She refused to even entertain Jen's suggestion that she was jealous. Stress and exhaustion killed a sex drive and those two factors had been constants in Maria's life for more than a year.

"Well, you may be in luck anyway," Jen mused, leaning backward. She narrowed her eyes but her friend was staring past her shoulder. "There's a guy at the bar behind you who has been checking you since he came in and he's _hot_."

"Then he's obviously checking _you_ out, my friend," she replied, slightly miffed she could not turn to face this mysterious man without being so obvious. Jen sighed in frustration. Ever since Jen's long-time boyfriend Jack had moved in with her she had developed this theory that no woman's life is complete without a man. Maria had simply laughed in response until Jen's admonitions to find a date became weekly lectures and she had even attempted to send Maria on a few blind dates.

"Sweetheart, he has made _no _eye contact with me since he sat down," Jen replied. "He's not even attempting to be discreet about it either. If he's that brazen, I wouldn't be surprised if he gives you his number."

"Oh for the love of the gods," Maria huffed, rolling her eyes in irritation.

When they finished their food and coffees, the two women chatted about plans for the Thanksgiving holiday and Jen extracted a promise from Maria that she would show up to her mother's annual dinner. They passed the bar on their way out. Jen tipped her head thoughtfully.

Maria glanced over the bar to see a group of middle-aged men wearing button-down shirts, most with thinning gray hair, talking and nursing their beers while the Patriots game blared from the television over the cash register. There was absolutely no one who approached Jen's description at the bar.

"Too bad he left," the red-head mused. "I was sure he was going to ask for your number."

"Whatever," Maria replied, rolling her eyes.

She felt a twinge of loneliness as she watched her friend climb into her black Mercedes Benz. Her oldest, dearest friend was leaving and Maria felt as if she was finally being abandoned. Only a few days had passed since her arrival and already she felt as disconnected and sad as she had in D.C.

"I'll call you when I get home," Jen assured her. "And don't think you're off the hook about Greenly."

Maria flashed her a irritated smile but waved as the car pulled away and rolled slowly down the street toward New York. With a sigh, she shoved her hands back inside her pockets and began the walk back to her own vehicle.

XXXXX

Maria opened the door from the rear servants' entrance and immediately regretted her decision. A loud, distinctly feminine shriek greeted her ears and caused her to wince. A familiar male voice broke through the screams.

"Ms. Wolferson!" Daniel's voice echoed down the corridor. Against her better judgment, Maria moved quickly toward the voices she heard with a growing sense of dread.

On the floor of the foyer, Anita Wolferson whimpered and cried while Daniel attempted to hold her. As she approached, the steward's head turned in her direction and his crystalline blue eyes pleaded with her.

"Hey Daniel, Ms. Wolferson," she greeted them in an attempt to feign courtesy and some sort of normalcy. "What's going on?"

"Ms. Wolferson came to speak with Mr. Greenly with regard to the bouquet she received from him earlier this week," Daniel explained. She marveled at his calm exterior but realized he had likely endured this tantrum before by other Greenly paramours.

The woman on the floor was a hot mess. Her hair was a snarled, tangled mess that more closely resembled a rat's nest than the perfect coif Maria recalled from their first meeting. Her mascara was running down her face in long, black rivulets and her skirt hiked nearly up to her underwear line.

"Should I …?" She asked him but Daniel shook his head, causing the woman to scream. "I ordered the flowers at Mr. Greenly's request, Ms. Wolferson. Was there a problem with them?"

"He can't do that!" She yelled, angrily. "He can't just cast me aside like trash. No one does that to me! I want to see him. Now!"

"Mr. Greenly is not taking visitors right now," Daniel said sternly.

"Then I'll just wait here until he does," she retorted petulantly.

Maria felt her already strained patience grow thinner.

"Ms. Wolferson, you realize you're trespassing, right?" Maria attempted to reason with her. "You have two options: Either you leave willingly or you are forcibly removed. Your choice, of course, but you have twenty seconds to decide."

The blonde struggled to her feet, three-inch stilettos in her hand. Before her tantrum she had obviously groomed herself to play the seductress. Now, she was a disheveled mass of seething rage. She glared at the shorter woman and took a step closer, as if to intimidate her.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She spat. Maria sighed heavily and glanced around the waif's arm toward the steward.

"Daniel, would you be so kind as to contact the police and let them know there is a trespasser here who refuses to leave?" Daniel nodded his head and began to turn.

"No! Wait!" Anita called out. "I'll leave. But you can bet this isn't the end and you can Lucas that as well." Too shocked by her unimaginative, cliché threat, Maria just watched Anita storm toward the door. Ever the gentleman, Daniel opened the door to allow her to exit.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Daniel remarked.

"Scorned?" she repeated. "I thought the bouquet was a brilliant idea myself, gentle and kind. I wish my exes had broken up with me with flowers. Perhaps we wouldn't be on such bad terms now."

She did not tell Daniel that her ex-boyfriends were only two in number and so long ago, she could barely recall the details. Daniel smiled sympathetically at her.

"Oh, what? That's how _you_ break up with significant others too?" She said sarcastically.

"Why make needless enemies?" He replied with a shrug. "In any event, how was your afternoon?"

"Great until I got back," she said, casting a brief glare at the door.

"Did you enjoy the Sword and Chariot?" Daniel asked.

"Oh yeah," she replied, smiling. "The food was fantastic and it was nice to just get off the property for a few hours, see an old friend."

"Absolutely," he agreed. "You'll see that, especially in the winter, we all get a little cabin fever."

Growing up in Western New York, she had seen more than her fair share of blizzard-like winters and freezing temperatures. She had been told that it was not uncommon to be snowed in for days during a rural New England winter.

"Well, let's not rush it," she replied wryly. "I'll see you later Daniel."

As she started toward her room, she felt an odd, prickly sensation through her shoulders and the back of her neck. She glanced up at the large staircase but saw nothing unusual. Chalking it up to an overactive imagination she banished the strange feeling to the back of her mind as irrational.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks had passed since the now-infamous tantrum in the foyer. Mrs. O'Donnell had stated, in no uncertain terms, that she was glad she would not have to cater to the whims of 'that twit' any longer. Julian had been even more plainspoken but tempered his remarks with a warning to any who would listen that he had 'never known a gold-digging tart to give up so easily. _He'll_ likely have to deal with her nonsense again.'

Greenly did not broach the subject with her nor did she venture to raise the subject. In less than fourteen days they had developed an unspoken policy to ignore anything that did not need immediate attention. Anita Wolferson apparently merited no attention and Maria was more than content to acquiesce to her employer's wishes on the matter.

"Maria, what do you know about masques?"

She looked up from the e-mail she was typing to Greenly's accountant. Nearly at a snail's pace, both employer and employee had grown comfortable with each other's nearly constant presence during the work day.

"The face covering? Or the ball where the guests _wear_ a face covering?" She asked matter-of-factly.

Greenly's delicious mouth spread into a lazy smile and his sapphire blue eyes were hooded; almost the perfect picture of seduction. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and holding his face in his hands. He suddenly appeared to be so much younger and even more comfortable in that posture.

"The ball," he replied.

"Uh, well, just a bare bones understanding, really," she replied. "People dressed in formal evening wear carrying or donning artfully decorated half masks, either kept on with a string or held by a stick. Around midnight there is a great unveiling and all the guests reveal their true identities to each other."

"Was that sarcasm I detected?" He queried, his mouth softened into a gentle grin.

"Only a fool hasn't guessed the identities of people he knows before the unmasking," she retorted, unable to suppress her own smile. Greenly chuckled and nodded his head a few times in agreement.

"The historical society's annual masque is in another week and I RSVP'd for two," he continued. She nodded, remembering filling out and mailing the reply card.

"Lucas, are you saying you forgot to ask someone to this little shindig?" She teased him. "You'd better call her now, and give me her information so I can send an 'apology' bouquet."

"Actually, I had hoped to avoid the entire charade of groveling altogether by asking _you_ to accompany me to this 'shindig'," he replied with a mocking emphasis on the last word.

"Pardon me?" She sputtered. His joke had certainly taken her by surprise but she managed to recover quickly, lifting her steno pad to shield what felt like a heated blush spreading across her face.

"I would _very much_ like for you to accompany me to the masquerade ball next week," he said, this time his voice was a little softer. Maria's heart raced as she briefly entertained the idea. It would mean a chance for her to spend time with the gorgeous, intelligent, and sweet Lucas Greenly. At the same time, she knew she was a little too rough around the edges to survive an evening among the socialites of Massachusetts. She would simply be an embarrassment to him and then he would likely terminate her.

"Um, gee Lucas, I wish I could but I don't have anything appropriate to wear for this kind of thing and – " Greenly had picked up the receiver and held up his hand in a 'stop' motion.

"Yes, hello, this Lucas Greenly," he began. "Very well, thank you. And yourself? Excellent. I am truly sorry to bother, and I realize this is very short notice, but I'm in a bit of a bind. Well, there is a formal masque in Boston next week and there's a lovely woman whom I wish to escort but she has rejected my … yes, you're right, waiting until the last minute is no way to do things. Alright. Thank you."

She was uncertain whether she felt more shocked than angry.

"Daniel will drive you to Mrs. Linwood's shop," he told her in flatly.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" She exclaimed. "Maybe I had plans that night. You didn't ask." Greenly grinned mischievously and she knew she was in trouble.

"Consider it part of your position as my personal assistant," he told her before he lifted the phone receiver again. "Daniel? Would you please drive Maria to Mrs. Linwood's shop? She made room in her schedule and wants to see her immediately. Very well."

Maria scowled at him while he made shooing motions toward the door. With a sigh, she jogged to grab her purse and practically ran face first into Daniel on the first landing of the grand staircase. He grabbed her shoulders before she crashed.

"Oh, geez Daniel, sorry about that!" She exclaimed.

"You appear a little flustered," he observed with a smirk, offering her his arm which she took. No other pedestrians needed to be placed in imminent danger because her mind scattered at that moment.

"Yeah, well, I have an allergy to dresses and it seems I'm being forced into one for this job," she grumbled. Daniel laughed outright as he led her to the shiny black limousine parked in front of the manor.

"Front or back?" He asked her.

"Oh lord, front please," she said. Like a gentleman, he opened and closed the door for her before he climbed into the leather driver's seat.

"I could've driven if someone gave me her address," she explained.

"Hardly," he replied with a snort. "Susanne Linwood's shop does not have an address per se. Mapquest wouldn't be able to locate it." Maria nodded, wondering if the Linwood woman was eccentric, paranoid, or both.

"So how many times have you been there?" She asked him, watching the scenery change. Most of the homes were the old manors, built in the Nineteenth Century, with brick and stone walls surrounding the estates and high metal gates. Soon, the open estates vanished and were replaced with old-growth forest that lined both sides of the road.

"Mrs. Linwood is one of the world's premier designers and she has a very exclusive client list," Daniel replied. "The short answer: Too many times." They both laughed as the limo sped down the two-lane road toward what she considered hell. She was fairly certain her credit card did not have enough room to pay for anything designer. Maria hoped Mrs. Linwood would understand that Greenly had coerced her and that she simply could not purchase a dress.

Daniel turned down a dirt driveway and rolled to a stop by a pair of thick, black metal gates. He rolled down the window.

"Daniel O'Laughlin sent by Lucas Greenly," he called into the intercom. With a harsh beep that made her jump, the gates swung open and Daniel proceeded up the gently sloping driveway. As they drew closer to the top Maria could see a brick chimney followed by a V-shaped roof appear against the tall trees. An old, stately colonial-style house loomed at the top. The porch was wraparound with a swing and a few benches lining the walls and attached was what appeared to be a converted stable.

"She lives here or just works here?" Maria asked, jaw slightly ajar. Cobblestone pathways led to each entryway of the house, past well-maintained shrubs and flower beds.

"Both," Daniel replied. "The smaller building is her shop." She climbed out of the car, still awestruck with the grounds. Any second she expected a man with a tri-cornered hat, wool jacket, and white leggings to appear with a musket in hand.

"Daniel!" A feminine voice exclaimed. A tall, thin woman with salt-and-pepper hair, glasses, wearing a gray business suit rushed from the porch to greet her co-worker. "It's so good to see you! It's been too long."

Daniel took the woman's hand, whom she presumed to be Mrs. Linwood, and gently kissed it. She laughed and ruffled his hair a bit before she turned toward Maria. Her light blue eyes lit up as she gave the younger woman a once over.

"So Lucas has finally discarded the tarts?" She asked. "My dear, you are positively gorgeous but so petite." Maria tried to smile but could not help but feel annoyed at the woman's statement of the obvious. She knew she was short.

"Susanne Linwood, this Maria DiBella, Lucas' new personal assistant," Daniel finally managed the introduction. Mrs. Linwood's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"My dear I am so sorry, I thought you and Lucas …," she trailed off, embarrassed.

"Erm, no," Maria replied, feeling her face flush slightly. "For some reason, he thought I would make a better backup date than one of his … _tarts_." She grinned at the older woman slyly who proceeded to laugh and put her arm under the smaller woman.

"My dear, I believe that we will get along famously," she replied. "Though I can see you lean more toward the tomboy side of femininity." It was a gentle insult of her fashion sense, or lack thereof but she ignored it as irrelevant.

"Well, that may be true Mrs. Linwood but I'm afraid I've wasted both your time and Daniel's," she said. "I came here because my employer ordered me to but I can't afford a dress from you, though I wish I could."

Mrs. Linwood and Daniel exchanged glances before she turned her attention back to Maria.

"Oh my dear, no, no, no," she exclaimed. "Why would you think you'd be paying for any of this?"

"Likely because Lucas neglected to mention that little detail," Daniel replied wryly. She shook her head in disappointment while Maria wondered if her melodramatic behavior was an act or really part of her personality.

"My dear, I have a very short, very exclusive private client list and I only accept orders and payment from those clients," she explained. "That is not meant to be an insult to you, of course. The Greenlys have been my clients since I began my own label years and years ago."

"Oh," was the only thing she could think to say. "Um, right, this is extremely awkward."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Linwood replied with a wave of her hand. "Now that you're here, we will start with taking your measurements. I do have the perfect design for you and I believe you'll like it."

"Right," Maria replied, feeling herself being dragged toward the shop at the far side of the house.

Maria was relieved when Daniel closed the door to the passenger's side of the car. After an hour, most of which was taken up with Mrs. Linwood chatting, the measurements were finished and she promised Maria to have her dress finished in a few days for any final alterations that were needed.

"Now I have to shop for shoes," Maria moaned, bringing her hand to forehead. Unlike most women, she loathed shoes and shoe shopping practically made her convulse. Part of the problem was her foot was small and the other part was that she had never encountered a shoe as comfortable as bare feet.

"Nonsense, that's also my department, dear," Mrs. Linwood assured her. "I'll call when I need you to come back. Until then." She gave a Maria a hug that the younger woman supposed should have comforted her but instead only succeeded in adding to her anxiety.

Daniel had a smirk on his face when he began the drive down the mountain. Maria scowled at him but said nothing.

"Lucas has sent some of his more demanding paramours up here in the past, to have a unique Linwood gown made as a gift," he finally ventured to say. "This is the first time I've ever seen someone actually fight the idea of a designer garment."

"Daniel, look at it from my perspective," she began while the raven haired man continued to stare at the winding drive outside. "I've just moved seven hours away for a new job. Then, three weeks later, my boss, whom I don't even know, demanded that I be his date to a fancy soiree where I'll no one _except_ him.

"Pardon me but I hope you understand that designer clothes are not at the top of my priority list just now."

"You worry too much," he replied with a chuckle.

"Huh?"

"You worry too much," he repeated more slowly. "You are accustomed to more control and fear what you don't know. Sometimes, you need to have a little blind faith that things will resolve themselves and everything will be alright."

"Eh, blind faith," she grumbled.

"Maria," Daniel began, his voice sounded like that of a parent attempting to reason with a teenager. "Give it a chance. I'll bet you'll even surprise yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

The kitchen was empty when Maria and Daniel returned from Mrs. Linwood's shop. Daniel peaked in the refrigerator and smirked triumphantly.

"Italian sausage," she said, peaking around his shoulder. He handed her the plate of leftover sausages, onions, green peppers, and sub rolls.

"Are we _not_ supposed to do this, or something?" She asked him as he set the timer on the microwave.

"No, Mrs. O'Donnell doesn't care if the leftovers are finished," he replied. He prepared two sandwiches with the trimmings and hopped up on the counter to eat. "_This _she _would_ mind."

Maria fixed her own sandwich and opted to lean against the island instead.

"Too short?" Daniel teased her.

"No, better manners," she retorted.

"Ooh, touche," he retorted. "Brains, beauty, _and_ wit." Maria kept her eyes fixed on her food, grateful to have something in her stomach after so many hours in the seamstress' workshop. With a strange, yet natural, grace he slid onto the stool beside her and placed his plate on the island less than a couple of inches away from her thigh.

"I'm _really_ glad Lucas hired you," he continued several seconds later. "Though I know you're overqualified. You're actually really funny and you're not as formal as his last assistant."

"If that's supposed to be a compliment," she began, eyes averted toward the kitchen floor.

"It is merely an … observation," he quickly interjected. "No offense was intended."

"Oh?" she teased. "It _sounded_ like you were _trying_ to compliment me." Immediately, she began to silently berate herself for a lame attempt at flirting with a man who was so far out of her league he likely was on speed dial for all of the Victoria's Secret angels.

"And something that I will _certainly_ do more often if it will bring that lovely blush to your cheeks," he replied, his voice slightly lower and huskier.

She lifted her head and met Daniel's gaze. He frowned, hands folded in his lap with one thumb rubbing over the other. She slid to her feet and busied herself with cleaning up her plate and silverware. Running the dish through the hot water, she attempted to ignore Daniel as he sidled up beside her at the sink. Carefully, one large hand tugged the plate from her grasp while the other forced her wrist away from the steaming water. She risked a glance at her skin and winced, red and had started to blister.

"Sit," he commanded her, steering her by her shoulders to the stool at the island. Maria was left to stare at the wound that seemed to emit steam even as the skin bubbled. Rapidly, she blinked back the tears before they had a chance to reach her lower eyelids.

With a gentleness she had never before experienced, Daniel seized her injured hand in his while he carefully wrapped the gauze around the blistered area. His attention seemed to be fixed on his task and she briefly wondered if she should attempt to make some explanation for her bizarre behavior.

"You know these will likely rupture overnight," Daniel said, his voice soft. "Best to put aloe on the opened wounds in the morning. I actually keep some in my room. Well, a lot, actually. I can bring some by later this evening and explain how to apply it."

He ripped the tape and lightly pressed it against her exposed skin. She started slightly when his lapis lazuli eyes rolled upward until they met hers. Immediately, she wrenched her face away from his intense stare and silently girded herself to deflect the questions he might ask.

"What time are you off?" He asked. Air left her lungs and her chest slowly deflated. Her heartbeat rapidly increased as she lifted her head to look him in the eye.

'_I'm shaking like some goddamn teenage girl,'_ she internally berated herself. _'Has it_ really _been that long?'_ Instantly she pushed the thought away before she felt worse.

"Um, I don't know," she said, forcing the corners of her mouth to turn up into a forced smile. "I mean, I've been gone all day and I've probably got a mountain of work to get through."

Maria swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze away from his icy blue eyes, and attempted to hide any outward sign of the dirty thought that flickered through her mind. His eyes dropped to their conjoined hands, which he suddenly released, and offered her a shy smile. His hands flew up in the universal sign of surrender.

"Hey, sorry, just trying to help," he said, his tone immediately.

"Oh no, I appreciate it, really," she replied, ashamed of her reaction and words. "I – I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I guess I'm just used to - ."

"Taking care of yourself?" Daniel finished for her, left eyebrow raised. "That sounds rather sad." Humiliation flooded her entire body.

"Well, thank you for the lift and helping me out with my carelessness," Maria replied, ignoring his statement. "I guess I owe you one."

Briefly, she lifted her eyes to look at him just in time to see him nod his head. Sliding to her feet, ready with more pitiful excuses for her behavior, she found herself completely alone in the kitchen.

Greenly was not in his study. Unfortunately, a large stack of new mail had appeared in her seat while she was gone with a yellow sticky note on top: _**Maria – Hope the seamstress' shop did not alarm you too much. Emergency meeting in Boston was called. I shall be back quite late tonight. Please call my cell if anything requires my immediate attention. – LG**_

"Okay," she said flippantly, putting the note on top of his desk. She felt a small wave of envy at his beautiful, flowing handwriting but reminded herself that she had been a lawyer and, like physicians, her handwriting was now a casualty of her former occupation.

She continued to alphabetize the books and set them into the shelves that lined the walls. At least his absence gave her some time to continue her mammoth project. When every last inch of space on the shelves had been filled, she moved the remainder of the books into a corner to avoid tripping. She would have to devise a solution for that and likely along the lines of, 'are you absolutely sure you need those books in _here_?'

Beside the desk, closest to the door, she saw what appeared to be a small table covered with stacks of paper and surrounded on the floor by folders, booklets, binders, and more paper. She glanced at the desk briefly, shuddered, and promptly turned her focus to the small table. She would need a full day alone in the study to make any headway there.

Piles for magazines, journals, and pamphlets were created. Papers were divided by subject matter. After half an hour of sorting she noticed the little table was not a table at all, rather it was a small two-drawer wooden filing cabinet. She opened the top drawer and drew in a sharp breath at its contents.

Instead of hanging folders, there was a tall stack of cheap spiral notebooks. She wondered if that had been his diary system for a time. The first notebook had a yellow cover and she opened it. Page after page was filled with a strangely familiar, flowing script. The writing was not Arabic, of that she was certain, nor did it remotely resemble any other non-Roman characters that she could identify. Each notebook was filled with the same kind of writing.

She identified indented paragraphs and headings at the very top of pages, reminding her of a journal or personal diary. The second drawer contained another stack of spiral notebooks with the same script. She made a mental note to ask Greenly what they were and if they should be moved elsewhere. Something quiet but incessant tugged at the back of her mind, as if she had seen the writing before, but the memory was so distant she could not solidify it into anything useful.

Head bowed, she continued her methodical organization and was entirely unaware of the passage of time.

A sharp whistle startled her from her reverie. When she looked up, Daniel stood before her with the books she had dropped balanced on his left hand and a smirk on his face.

"Jesus, Daniel!" She exclaimed, reaching for the historical volumes. Body tensed, senses on high alert, she sought to find a rational explanation as to how the steward was able to enter the room with enough stealth to escape her notice.

"What?" He challenged, smirk firmly in place.

"You surprised me is all," she muttered quickly. "I just wasn't expecting anyone in Greenly's _private_ study."

"Then perhaps you should have closed and locked the door," he replied. She blinked once, twice, three times, before she turned her attention back to the memo she was pecking on the laptop keyboard, muttering under her breath all of the while. A moment later, her index finger slid across the pad and brought the pointer to the 'send' button on the Outlook message.

"Well, I must say this place looks a sight better than it did a few weeks ago," Daniel remarked, finally. Maria snorted, uncaring that it was entirely unladylike, as she surveyed her progress. Immediately, her face fell as she realized that she truly was a far cry from full organization and efficiency.

"There's a chance, when all is said and done, I'll be able to answer the age-old question of where they buried Jimmy Hoffa," she quipped. Daniel laughed softly, shaking his head. "Here, I want to show you something I found."

She opened up the top drawer to the cabinet and pulled out a notebook. Flipping it open to the first page, she handed it to Daniel and watched him carefully for some sort of explanation or reaction. She was not disappointed as blood rushed to his white cheeks in a blush that rivaled a teenaged virgin.

"Do you know what this is?" She pressed him.

"Lucas' _personal_ business," he replied, ice-blue eyes briefly fluttered toward hers before they fluttered back to the notebook in his hand. He snapped it shut with finality and slid easily around her to deposit it back into the drawer.

"I'm his _personal_ assistant, in case you forgot," she challenged him. Daniel mournfully shook his head in response.

"Leave them be, Maria," he warned her gravely.

"What _are_ they?" She demanded angrily. "You_ know_ I'll find out eventually."

Daniel remained stubbornly silent, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. Maria shook her head and placed the notebook back in the drawer with the others. With so many things happening at one time she knew she would be better served to wait, for a little while at least, before she broached the issue with her employer.

"Come on," he urged her. "You've a very long, eventful day. Time to knock off for a few hours before you're back at it again."

"Right," she muttered, moving from lamp to lamp. Darkness blanketed the room and Maria could not shake the eerie feeling that she was trapped in that space. The blackness nearly swallowed the warm yellow light that spilled over the threshold from the corridor.

"Anyway," Maria began, pulling the door closed behind her. A small, digital beep confirmed the bolt had latched. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Uh, no," Daniel replied standing directly in her path to block her escape. "Knock off does not mean just going to sleep before eight o'clock."

"Then I guess you and I have very different definitions for that term," she grumbled, attempting to step around him. A devilish smile lit up his face as he grabbed her right wrist.

"Come along, Ms. DiBella," Daniel's voice in sing-song while he pulled her farther along into the interior of the house.

The room reminded her of a greenhouse. She judged the diameter to be about sixty feet from the entry to the outer wall. Soft, white light poured through recessed track lighting within the curved walls and the overhead steel beams that framed the glass panes.

Swinging the two, green 40 oz. beer bottles, Daniel strode past her into the middle of the room. He had called it, 'the solarium' and she could easily understand the inspiration behind the name – during the day the enclosure was likely flooded with sunlight. With a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest and began to walk the perimeter with her eyes all the while taking whatever visible details she could discern among the shadows.

"Impressive isn't it?" Daniel asked her.

"That's one word for it," she acknowledged. Everything in Greenwood was impressive, breathtaking, and several other adjectives that she had not had the need to use in quite some time. "_I've _never seen anything like it in real life."

"But you have seen it somewhere," he prodded her. Maria turned toward the center of the room just as Daniel's khaki-clad bottom made contact with the marble floor. He set one bottle about half a foot away from his left knee while he proceeded to unscrew the cap of the forty in his left hand.

"Yeah, sure, in the old black-and-white movies set on large estates, or haunted manors," she replied with a shrug. She glanced down at him, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of his icy blue stare. He extended his arm toward her. She grabbed the proffered bottle and took a long, deep swig.

"I love a woman who can handle her ale," Daniel drawled, taking a large mouthful from his bottle.

"Ooh baby, ooh baby," she replied sarcastically. Daniel merely raised an eyebrow in response but said nothing.

Maria sank to the floor and folded her legs so that she was sitting cross-lotus style. The two feet of physical space between them had become a mile. She was both relieved for the safety of personal space and disappointed with the absence of intimacy.

_'Ridiculous,'_ she thought to herself. _'This guy could be_ America's Next Top Model. _Plus, it's not as if there's a lot to do here anyway.'_

"You're trying too hard," he remarked, calm and slightly disinterested.

"Trying too hard to what?" She responded, internally cursing herself as her eyes flicked down to her knees.

"To put a 'respectable amount of space' between us," he replied with his fingers in air quotes. He silently slid several inches closer to her to which she automatically moved farther away. "See?" He crowed triumphantly, smirking.

"What?" She demanded. "I'm sorry if the concept of _personal space_ offends you, Daniel."

"Sure," he replied, shrugging as if he had not made the connection between his proximity and my question. A mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes indicated the very opposite. "But it's a lot more fun to _crowd_ people." Emphasizing his point, he leaned into her and knocked her slightly with his muscular shoulder.

Daniel took the bottle from her hand and placed it beside him. Eyebrows raised, Maria tilted her head slightly so she could see her face. Instantly, she felt her insides turn to gelatin as his eyes locked upon her, smoldering.

The world around them slowed to a stop and constricted around them until she felt as if she was caught in some sort of bubble. He leaned forward, gently placing his hand at the back of her skull and pulling her face toward his until their lips met.

The first kiss was a soft, experimental brush of mouths before her eyelids closed. Maria allowed Daniel to take the initiative, the feeling in her stomach intensified as he pulled her into his lap while he deepened his attack on her mouth. She heard a soft moan from the back of his throat and felt his fingers thread through her hair.

Slowly, like reducing the volume of a song, his kisses slowed and became long and lazy. Maria's heart continued to race. She felt his forehead pressed against hers while she slowly opened her eyes. His eyes remained closed for several seconds longer before slowly fluttering open.

"What are we doing?" She heard herself whisper.

"Don't think about it," he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

The alarm went off at five, just like it normally did, but this time her head throbbed in time with the high-pitched whine. Maria groaned, burying her face within her pillow while she attempted to force the pain in her head to cease.

Rolling over, she stared at the empty half of the bed. She detected no foreign scents on the linens and nothing indicated someone had been in her bed with her. A mixture of relief and disappointment passed through her.

Maria thought back to the last time she had spent the night with a man. Dim memories of a one-night stand came to mind. The man who she had brought home had been more drunk than she and when he came, he called out the name of another woman entirely.

She chuckled as she remembered how surprised and embarrassed she had felt in response. The amusement stemmed from the fact he had climaxed so quickly and the embarrassment was the result of his inability to recall her name for a few hours. Fortunately, her dalliance with Daniel in the solarium had less long-lasting effects on her pride.

She made certain that she was fifteen minutes early so that there was no question about her dedication to her job. With a quick wave of her security card, she opened the door to Greenly's office and flipped the switches on the wall. The disaster remained in precisely the same configuration from the previous day. Hope of some sort of magical transformation was extinguished and she single-mindedly resumed her duties.

Maria became so completely absorbed in her work that she lost track of everything around her, including time. She accepted, opened, and logged all of the mail that arrived. Important dates were added to his Outlook calendar with reminders. In between the daily tasks, she continued to re-shelve books and sort magazines and newsletters into chronological stacks.

So engrossed in her projects and so in synch with her routines that she briefly allowed herself a brief sense of satisfaction.

At least, until the door slammed.

"Good morning, Lucas," she greeted him. Tension radiated from his body as he stalked toward his desk. He was very angry about something but she decided not to ask. Sapphire eyes narrowed, he leaned against the desk and rested his weight against his balled fists.

"Ms. DiBella," he addressed her formally. The use of her last name was only one step below the use of her full name in terms of the degree of panic and alarm she felt.

"Yes sir?" She asked, arms clasped behind her back while she waited for his lecture.

"What you do when you are not on the clock, so to speak, is entirely_ your_ business," he began. "However, I would prefer you keep certain _activities_ confined to your quarters or to some place _off _of my property."

"Yes sir, I understand," she replied, meeting his eyes just long enough to acknowledge his reprimand.

Greenly looked at her blankly for a few seconds. Maria felt relieved to see realization dawn in his eyes. Her last statement had launched a new game between them, one she would win.

"Then we understand one another," he replied through his clenched teeth.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

The remainder of the afternoon they worked in silence. Occasionally, she could swear she felt his eyes on her but she refused to look at him or acknowledge anything else about his presence unless absolutely necessary. Guilt and humiliation hovered around any and all of her thoughts and her cheeks remained warm from the knowledge she had been caught drinking and making out with a co-worker.

XXXX

At the standard lunch hour, Maria quickly excused herself to make a lap around the buildings of the property. She felt as if she would suffocate if she remained inside any longer. She was thankful free wireless came as part of the living accommodations in the manor; she needed to start a new job search immediately.

"Hey Maria! Wait!"

In a heavy woolen jacket, Nichole McEvoy jogged toward her across the open yard. She shoved her hands in her pants' pockets and waited.

"Hey, where are you going?" Nichole asked her, a broad grin on her face.

"In a great big circle, actually," the shorter woman explained. "I guess my cabin fever started a little early this year."

Nichole clapped a hand on her shoulder in what Maria assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture. The only way she could interpret the gesture was as a precursor to a series of very uncomfortable questions.

"Lucas is in one of his moods today," she commiserated.

"Yep," Maria replied, continuing her walk. "I mean, I guess. I have no idea since this is the first time he's dressed me down."

"Rumor has it Daniel kissed you in the solarium," she said, a sly smile on her face.

"Did the rumor mention the copious amounts of alcohol we both consumed and that it went no farther?" Maria said, irritated.

"Of course not," Nichole replied. "What kind of juicy gossip would it be if there wasn't some speculation that you did it right there?"

"Hilarious," she grumbled.

"This isn't the first time someone has become a little too intimate in one of the more public parts of the manor," Nichole said.

"Oh?" Maria replied. They had passed the converted carriage house which remained as still and empty as death.

"Oh gods, no," the older woman laughed. "Julian once hosted a threesome in the main sitting room when he thought Lucas would not be home."

"So what happened?" Maria asked, curious and feeling only slightly better that someone else had been more depraved than she and Daniel.

"More rumors," Nichole sighed. "Even though practically everyone saw them going at it. And I've got to admit, I was pretty jealous that I hadn't been invited." Maria turned her hazel-green eyes toward her and both women burst out laughing.

"Well, I hope Daniel has been able to avoid the boss' wrath better than I," Maria giggled. Nichole stopped and turned toward her.

"Lucas sent Daniel to Key West this morning," Nichole said softly. Maria stopped, her blood suddenly ran cold.

"He certainly wastes no time in doling out discipline," she muttered. A thrill of panic in her stomach reminded her that she needed the job. Silently, she vowed to herself that any more private social time would be done off the Greenly property and somewhere more private.

"It's never been _that_ extreme before," Nichole confided in her as they approached the guest cottage. Maria shrugged and shoved her hands deeper in her pockets.

"Maybe this was the straw that broke that camel's back," she said. "I don't know but it isn't my house and I shouldn't have done it."

"Done _it_? You mean, kissing Daniel," Nichole surmised.

"Uh no," she replied. "I meant the whole thing was inappropriate. The fact I'm still employed surprises me."

"Well, did you consider that maybe the reason he's angry with you two is _not_ because you were acting inappropriately?" Nichole asked her. Maria did not like the direction into which the other woman appeared to be steering them.

"I think that if you were really my friend, you'd give me some of the horse tranquilizer you undoubtedly keep around," Maria said. "My head still has that dull, aching buzz." Nichole grinned and shook her head.

"That's why I became a vet instead of a physician," she said, smirking. "Animals complain _far less_ than humans when something ails them."

"You are just a regular laugh_ riot_," Maria retorted.

XXXX

With Daniel in Florida and Greenly still furious, Maria had no way of finding out what the hidden stack of notebooks in the study actually were, nor what the symbols meant. Something about them seemed familiar, as if she had seen them somewhere before, though where and when did not immediately come to her.

Her appetite had yet to return to her in the wake of the drama from the morning. She had hoped the old familiar nausea would have disappeared once she left the glamorous, fast-paced world of the legal profession. Instead, she found herself pacing her room and occasionally flashing angry glares at her laptop.

A loud, shrill ring startled her and she jumped. The tiny display on her cell phone lit up with a picture of Jen from the annual Cherry Blossom Festival.

"Yes ma'am," she greeted her friend.

"Oooh, someone had a rough day," came the familiar voice on the other end. Maria sighed, remembering that Jen had known her long enough to recognize her moods by her tone of voice.

"Yeah, something like that," she replied.

"Want to tell me about it?" Jen asked hopefully.

"Sure," Maria agreed sarcastically. "I have no pride or self-respect left anyway."

"Come on Maria, what happened? Did you lose your job?"

"No, almost, but no," Maria answered. "I did something stupid last night and my boss found out about it. He warned me to keep it off the property."

"Oh wow!" Jen exclaimed. "Give me the dirt."

"You're supposed to be my friend, you know, my shoulder to cry on," Maria whined, leaning against the wall. "My only value is that of vicarious living for you."

"You know I love you and that's not true," she said in her rationalizing tone. "It's just an added bonus for me."

"Fine," she agreed, flopping onto the bed while she ran her hand through her loose, messy hair. "I met with a co-worker after we were both done for the day and he suggested we go to the solarium."

"Oh my God, the Greenlys have a solarium?" Jen interjected.

"I think they have buggy whips stored around here too," Maria quipped sarcastically. "Now shut up and let me tell my sad, pathetic tale."

"Carry on," Jen conceded. Maria rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, we split a bottle of wine while we talked," she continued. "One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, we were kissing right there, on the floor."

"Gods, that's great news," Jen gushed. "It's been how long – ."

"Uh no, fortunately it didn't get _that_ far," Maria cut her off quickly. "Anyway, I wake up with a horrific hangover, _alone_…," she emphasized the word. "… and when I see my boss, he gives me a lecture about what can and cannot be done on his property. So, I'm wondering why I don't see my co-worker all day - ."

"Your partner in crime?" Jen asked.

"Quiet," Maria shushed her. "And yes, that one. Anyway, the on-staff vet tells me at lunch that he's been sent to Key West. Key West!"

"The Greenlys have a vacation home there," Jen mused absently.

"How the hell do you know that?" Maria demanded. "I didn't know that and I work for the guy slash family, whatever."

"Do you remember the prima donna ballerina from the Maryland Ballet Company?" Jen asked her.

"I remember seeing her in _Romeo &amp; Juliet_Maria replied. "Two hours of my life I'll never get back, thanks."

"Her name was Annabeth Mirovich," Jen plodded on. "Anyway, about a year ago, she was fired from the company after they found out she had taken a foray into the adult film industry."

Maria laughed at the irony - Ballerina by day and porn star at night.

"That's not the best part," Jen continued. "She invited the director to film at the Greenly vacation home in Key West while she was staying there. Since it's Key West, a film crew is not going to go unnoticed there. One of the crew shot off his mouth and the paparazzi descended on the house like, well, you know …."

Maria was now practically rolling on the bed with laughter. She knew she could never mention the invasion of the Florida property but she was not entirely certain she would be able to keep a straight face either.

"Okay, well, good to know," she finally said after she had calmed herself. "Though I doubt Daniel is suffering too terribly much."

"Jealous?" Jen teased her.

"Are you kidding?" Maria balked. "I'm living in mortal fear that my next wrong move will send me back to _your _house."

"Ooh, touché," she replied. "In any event, I have to go since I've got a date that's supposed to pick me up soon."

"Ugh, fine, just ditch me for romance and great sex," she said in a voice filled with melodrama.

"Get a hobby," Jen replied. Maria smiled, placing her cell phone on the bed beside her. She would not deny the fact she felt envious of her friend's beauty and desirability though not nearly as much as she had several years ago.

Night had long since fallen over the land but Maria found herself unable to care. She desperately needed to be outside and doing something to burn off the anxiety, stress, and loneliness she suddenly felt.

Maria slid her feet into her shoes, grabbed her jacket, and quietly left her room.


	8. Chapter 8

The high flames of the bonfire flickered and danced against the night sky. Maria could see the three McEvoys, Julian, and Mrs. O'Donnell huddled in resin chairs that had been placed in a semi-circle around the fire. The light created shadows that danced over the stiff, dead grass around them.

Joe McEvoy suddenly rose to his feet and waved her over. With a sigh of resignation, she found herself walking toward the group in what she hoped appeared to be a casual gait. She made a mental note to use a side exit the next time she wanted to slip out of the manor.

"Maria, hey!" Nichole greeted her.

"Hey guys," she replied with false enthusiasm. "Thanks for the personal invite."

"Now, now," Maggie began. "The general consensus has been to lay low, under Lucas' radar."

"Any particular _reason_ for that?" She replied, feigning innocence as Julian magically produced another chair for her.

"Mmm, really?" Nichole replied, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, the firelight added a sinister darkness to her expression.

"Come on, love," Julian interjected. "We all know about your little indiscretion last night with Daniel."

"Oh, thanks, that's just what I needed everyone _else_ to hear," she grumbled. Nichole giggled, handing her a large brown glass bottle. She immediately passed it along to Julian who accepted the bottle without comment.

"What? You're on the wagon now?" Joe McEvoy joked.

"Uh, I was told not to do that on the property," she began, forcing herself to maintain a neutral expression while her co-workers laughed. "Hey, I'm the one most likely to lose her job. It's not an inconvenience."

"Sit and stay a while," Julian teased her. She glanced behind her and saw a short log that had been pulled close to the outer stone ring of the fire pit.

"So, is this a regular thing?" She asked, sinking onto the hard wood.

"In the fall and the spring, yes," Joe said. "It's a tradition going back several years, in fact."

"Oh," she replied.

"Cheer up, little one," Julian said.

"Julian, you really _are_ everyone's Little Miss Mary Sunshine," Maggie remarked, drawing laughter from the group.

"Someone must keep up morale," he replied, taking a long swig from the bottle. "I am merely the counterbalance to your gloomy outlook."

"Really?" Maria began, looking at him askance. "And I thought you were Irish." That drew even more laughter.

"Ah, how I have missed the witty American one-liners," Julian mused, staring into the darkness.

"Hardly," Mrs. O'Donnell said with a snort. "You just ignore them since they are largely aimed at you, Julian."

"What is this? Tag team Julian night?" He whined.

"Is not every night tag team Julian night?" A familiar voice interjected. Maria peered through the billowing smoke into the darkness until Greenly emerged from the darkness. Her stomach flip-flopped and her tension increased dramatically so that her heart was pounding against her chest.

There was polite, graceful way to excuse herself and she did not want to give him the impression that she was avoiding him. No one, least of all a rich playboy, would intimidate her. The others chorused their greetings and invitations to join them.

The log on which she sat did not shift even slightly when he gracefully sank down beside her. It was unfair that a man that gorgeous also appeared to be quite good at everything he did, even the mundane.

"Good evening Maria," Greenly greeted her quietly.

"Hello Lucas, how are you?" She asked, her words clipped. The McEvoys had started a discussion about horse breeds and did not appear to be listening to them.

"I'm well," he replied. Something, a light of some kind, flashed in his eyes but it was too dark to decipher anything more. "And you?"

"Fine, thank you," she said, turning back to the fire.

"Lucas, why don't you sing for us?" Julian suggested brightly.

"Only if you will, my friend," he replied.

"Of course," Julian replied. "Maria has yet to hear my some of my more rousing selections."

"Which are just as lewd as my father's," Nichole pointed out, turning her attention back to the group at large. "Yes, I heard you Julian. Honestly, do you really want to traumatize her already?"

"Oh come, love, it's like a cold; the sooner she is exposed the sooner she will build an immunity to my nonsense," Julian said, smirking.

"Actually, Julian, I would liken you to shingles," Nichole began innocently.

"Oh, and how's that?" The groundskeeper asked.

"You seem to flare up at the worst times and you're never wanted," she replied sweetly. Mrs. O'Donnell simply chuckled while Julian feigned a wounded expression.

"Ouch," he replied. "And here I thought we had something special, Nickie."

"Don't call me Nickie, _Julia_," Nichole told him. He held up his hands in a gesture that indicated defeat.

"Touche," he responded. "But, I've been distracted from my objective. You, my good employer, shall not be let off so easily as that." Greenly smiled bemusedly at the younger man, then looked up at the night sky for several long moments as if searching for inspiration.

"Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand

Vanished from my hand

Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping

My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet

I have no one to meet

And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming"

She stared into the flames and allowed herself to be swept away. She knew the lyrics, knew Bob Dylan, but Greenly's voice was hauntingly beautiful in a way Dylan's was not. When he finished, the others gave him a round of applause and he smiled with what appeared to be genuine pleasure.

"What about you, Maria?" Greenly asked her a moment later.

"Uh, well, I believe people who can't sing shouldn't," she replied, quickly glancing at him with a tight smile. "And I can't carry a tune in a bucket."

"Ah, I see," he said, disappointment heavy in his voice. She simply shrugged and went back to staring at the fire, listening silently to the conversations around her, and counting down the seconds until she could politely leave.

She saw the bottle that had been passed around but she waved her head to indicate she was not interested.

"Not even one sip?" Greenly teased her, a warm smile on his face.

"Um, I seem to recall being told not to do italic _that/italic_ on your property just this morning, in fact," she hissed at him. The smile faded and he leaned across her to pass the bottle to Julian. Greenly was so close to her she could not help but inhale his natural scent, lemongrass and his own unique aroma, which increased her heart rate again.

'What the hell is the matter with me?' She thought irritably.

"Well," Joe said, rising to his feet. "I can't speak for the rest of you, but I'm not as young as I used to be, so I'd better turn in." Mrs. O'Donnell clucked her tongue a few times.

"I'm older than you are, Joe McEvoy," she chided him. "And I don't appreciate being reminded of my age."

"_Golden_ age, Mrs. O'Donnell," Nichole amended for her. "In any event, I'd better turn in early myself. I promised to help Vince with his rabies clinic tomorrow, gods know why." The others muttered their excuses and good-nights before wandering stiffly back toward the manor.

"Wait for me, please," Greenly asked her softly. Maria simply nodded, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She watched as he moved with inhuman grace, pouring the large bucket of dirt over the red hot coals.

Greenly stared down at the cold fire pit for a while, as if searching for something. Maria watched him in his unnatural stillness but said nothing. The sudden darkness unsettled her.

"You are angry with me," he noted.

"Even if I am, does it really matter?" She asked. "It won't interfere with my job." He clasped his hands behind his back as he moved toward her.

"Of course not," he replied. "You are a consummate professional."

She carefully maintained a neutral expression in spite of his mockery.

"Well, I do hope you'll pardon the oversight but I'm at a loss as to exactly how I _should_ behave," she said in a tight voice. Greenly closed the distance between them until he stood less than six inches away from her while Maria fought against the instinct to move backwards.

"And besides, it's not fair to give me another lecture about it now. I'm off the clock and I _haven't_done that."

"Because I do not wish for you to be angry with me," he explained. "That will make Friday evening unbearably long for the both of us." Her heart sank a little: He was only concerned with projecting and maintaining an image within his own comfort level.

"It won't be a problem," she told him through clenched teeth, turning to leave. Greenly's hand shot out and caught her hand in a vise-like grip.

"Again, I have upset you," he said quietly, his eyes staring deeply into hers. Maria wanted to scream at him to release her or make a snide remark about banishing Daniel to Florida. Instead, she felt herself falling into his gaze.

"I'll get over it," she told him firmly. "I'm a big girl."

"Maria, I would very much like for us to be friends," he said.

She noticed that he had released her wrist, his fingers lightly brushed over the top of her hand and her fingers in a soothing caress. Gingerly, she uncurled her fist until her hand was extended. Her anger had run its course and extinguished itself, leaving her with the feeling that she was suddenly exposed to him.

"As would I," she told him. "But I feel as if it would be a superficial friendship."

"Why?" He tilted his head to the left, thoughtfully.

She blinked a few times as she considered his question. Her rational mind and her instincts were at war, both unhelpful. She could not tell him of her suspicions based on the hidden notebooks nor could she tell him she had a gut feeling that he only showed her the parts of his personality he wanted her to see.

"I guess because we're both pretty private people," she answered with a small shrug.

"But is that not part of a friendship?" He countered. "As the friendship grows, the friends learn more about one another and establish trust."

Maria forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. She was uneasy with his explanation and felt as if his words were loaded with far more than a desire for a simple friendship. Greenly lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. His lips felt soft against her skin, lingering far longer than would normally be considered appropriate.

'Yes, fool, next comes the contract to sell your soul to the devil and join his army of darkness,' she mocked herself.

"Let me put it this way," she began. "It's far easier to earn my respect than my trust."

"What can I do to earn your trust?" Maria recognized she had been backed against a wall. "Is there a secret handshake or a code word?"

Now he was just teasing her.

"Generally I ask to have a goat sacrificed and a large cash gift," she joked. Greenly simply smirked.

"Will you settle for allowing me to escort you back to the manor?" He asked her bemusedly, offering her his arm.

"It's a start," she replied, linking her arm through his.

"Indeed, a sacrificial goat sounds a little too personal for friends who don't know each other well," he quipped.

"Not to mention messy," she added. "_That _would put you in the category of 'best friend'."


	9. Chapter 9

Mrs. Linwood smiled as Maria emerged from the small dressing room wearing the final product of the last several days of hard work. She felt extremely self-conscious and exposed in the design that had been selected for the masquerade ball.

"You make that dress look lovely," Mrs. Linwood gushed. "I'm seriously thinking about starting a line just for petite women."

"On behalf of short women everywhere, thank you for your consideration Mrs. Linwood," Maria joked, offering the older woman a half grin. She chuckled, then made a whirling motion with her finger and Maria made a small turn.

The dress was a sapphire blue with thick, one-inch straps that connected to a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was adorned with crystals that sparkled under the enhanced shop lights. Light, airy chiffon fabric floated around her legs and ankles.

In that instant, Maria felt like a goddess.

A shoe box was shoved into her hands and Mrs. Linwood grinned mischievously.

"Give them a try," she encouraged Maria. With a sigh, she pulled out the two-inch strappy sapphire heels and carefully slid her feet inside. Her fingers fumbled with the delicate straps that criss-crossed over her wide feet.

"I don't understand Mrs. Linwood," Maria admitted. She stopped and tilted her head slightly to indicate that Maria had her full attention.

"What don't you understand, love?" She asked.

"The attraction men have to taller women," Maria said, sighing. An amused smile played over Mrs. Linwood's face.

"You mean the heels," she clarified. "You feel as if you are surrendering your own physical attributes to meet the expectations of others." Maria's jaw dropped open at how succinctly the woman summarized her thoughts on the issue.

"Well, partly at least," she finally said. "I mean heels are part of it but in general, men prefer taller women."

"First, my dear, women view heels as a fashionable means to overcome a _perceived_ height disadvantage, which they can be," she continued.

"Second, men like taller women if they actually have longer legs. I think it's something hardwired into their brains from evolution. Most petite women have short, squat legs and long torsos while you have a short torso and longer legs. Nature blessed you, my dear. Now, if you wear clothing that actually brought out these physical traits, as opposed to covering them - ."

"Uh, no, thanks," Maria cut her off quickly. "I was really just talking about the heels. And I don't need to balance on platforms of death to feel confident. Great theory but I'm just the wrong woman for it."

"Well, I'm quite certain Lucas will appreciate the view tomorrow night," Mrs. Linwood told her. "Fits beautifully. Just be careful since this dress is a little shorter than what you're likely accustomed to wearing."

Maria grumbled about the evils of dresses and skirts but obediently allowed Mrs. Linwood to pull down the zipper so that she could change back into her casual business attire.

"I would love to design a wardrobe for you," Mrs. Linwood sighed.

"You're just looking for a challenge," Maria called out from the dressing room.

"Perhaps," she replied. "Did Daniel bring you this afternoon?"

"Uh, no, he didn't," Maria began slowly. "He was sent to Florida on business for Lucas."

"Hmm, odd," Mrs. Linwood said. Maria emerged and handed the dress over while adjusting her purse. "I'll just hang this and you can be on your way, my dear."

Maria nodded, slightly nervous about transporting a Linwood original in her little sedan on the back roads of rural Massachusetts. A dress bag had been placed over the garment to protect it. A smaller pouch attached to the bag held the evil heels.

She worried that if anything happened to the dress Greenly would no longer be on Linwood's preferred list of customers. Inappropriately, she conversely wondered what he would do to impress his conquests if he could no longer obtain Linwoods for them.

"Okay, I'll guard it with my life and return it to you Monday," she told Mrs. Linwood. The other woman threw her head back and laughed.

"My dear, this dress is _yours_," she explained. "But we won't be quite this rushed for New Year's. Don't worry, I've already started pulling together a few ideas."

"Uh, what on earth makes you think I'll need a dress for New Year's?" Maria asked her, slightly horrified at the prospect of repeating the ordeal. Mrs. Linwood said nothing but gave her a knowing wink.

Maria did not recognize the woman in the vanity mirror. Dark chestnut curls cascaded around her head and down her shoulders, a touch of hairspray held them in place. No makeup had been applied to her face. The hairdresser had refused to apply anything artificial to her skin and threatened to leave if she took matters into her own hands.

Of course, wearing makeup was not something she normally did except during formal occasions.

A loud, rapid knock at her door startled her. She jumped to her feet, nearly falling over in the ridiculous heels Mrs. Linwood had insisted that she wear. Silently, she repeated to herself a mantra so that she walked more slowly.

Maria would later swear her heart nearly stopped when she beheld her employer on the other side of her door dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo with his long, beautiful blonde hair tied behind back.

"You look ravishing," he blurted out. A hot flush rose to her cheeks in response to his compliment.

"And you look devastatingly handsome, Lucas," she replied quietly, her eyes remained averted toward the floor. She felt a strange warmth spread over her right hand as a pair of petal soft lips met the bare skin of her palm, then her wrist.

"You are not accustomed to receiving compliments," he surmised.

"Only for my hard work and innate genius," she joked. "I loathe when people give me compliments on my physical appearance merely because they believe they should."

"Then it is my good fortune that I never make empty compliments," he replied softly. "Especially considering the fragility of our friendship."

Greenly offered her his arm.

"Oh, wait, my mask!" She exclaimed. After a few seconds, she reemerged with a fairly diminutive blue, green, and gold sequined mask lined with tiny blue feathers. Maria had not wanted to contemplate the size of the bird that had been sacrificed for the decoration.

"Where is _your_ mask, Master Greenly?" She inquired.

Lucas stuffed his left hand in his pocket and removed a black, half-mask similar to her own sans decoration or ornaments. He smiled wryly before stuffing it back into his tuxedo pocket. The smile very suddenly faded into a frown.

"You cannot go outside without a coat, or wrap, or something," he remarked as they reached the first step of the grand staircase. He paused, grip on her arm loosened considerably to allow her escape.

"It won't be _that_ cold, right?" She asked him, her tone of voice betrayed her doubt.

"Cold enough to make you uncomfortable, yes," Greenly replied.

"Well, it won't be the first time I went somewhere without sufficient protection from the elements," Maria remarked off-handedly.

"Hardly acceptable," Greenly pointed out. "You seem far too old to have such little regard for your own health."

Maria turned toward him and lifted an eyebrow. In that instant she realized her dress perfectly matched the color of his eyes and that his eyes had grown a shade darker than their usual jewel-like sapphire. Heat rapidly filled her cheeks but she refused to appear intimidated or discomfited by the revelation.

"Come on, stop worrying Lucas," she chided him. "I'll be fine. Besides, even I did get sick I couldn't possibly take a sick and ever hope to catch up again." A thick, tense silence descended upon them but neither employer nor employee would look away from the other.

Ever so slowly, Lucas began to lean forward while tilting his head slightly to his right. Several inches separated their mouths when he stopped and closed his eyes, releasing a sigh through his nose.

"For the love of all things holy, the party will be over before we get there if the two of you don't hurry!" Hal's voice ricocheted from the walls and ceiling. Maria was hardly surprised with the range and depth of the large man's voice.

Gently, Lucas slipped his arm around her waist and nudged her toward the staircase. With only slight hesitation, she carefully descended each step and made certain her foot was firmly placed on the wood before shifting her weight.

"Have you always had this fear of steps?" Greenly remarked, teasing.

"Oh, uh, only when I have to take them in heels," she replied as the needles exploded in her stomach. He chuckled softly as his grasp around her waist tightened.

"I will not allow you to fall, mell – little one," he murmured. Oddly, she felt sincerity behind his words but also confusion with his term of endearment, 'little one'.

They moved far more quickly, Maria's heels clicked against the wood until they finally reached the first floor landing. A long, low whistle of appreciation was released and she felt her face grow hot in response.

"Hey!" Maria greeted him. Greenly's head of security definitely made an impression on her; tuxedo tailored to his muscular physique, long blonde tresses drawn away from his face for a full view of his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Gray-blue eyes twinkled mischievously as his eyes lasciviously traveled the length of her body.

"Gorgeous," Hal remarked, making no effort to hide his eyes as they roved up and down her body. "But where is your coat?"

"Not this again," she moaned. Hal's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline before he clucked his tongue.

"What _will_ we do with you?" Hal said, swiftly closing the distance between them with his heavy winter coat in his hands. Carefully, he draped the scratchy wool garment around her shoulders. An arm wrapped protectively around her waist, guiding her toward the door. Startled, she glanced to her left where her eyes met Greenly's intense sapphire blue gaze.

"I apologize if I'm an embarrassment to you," she remarked quietly.

"Relax, Maria," Greenly whispered. "Hal likes you and he is simply expressing his concern for your well-being."

"I'm … sorry," she finally huffed.

"Don't be," he said, ushering her into the chill night air. A long black limousine idled in the driveway with a uniformed driver leaning against the passenger-side door. "You're nervous and understandably so."

The driver took her hand and assisted her with climbing into the vehicle. The interior was black leather with small electronic consoles seemingly sewn into the seats to control all aspects of seat comfort, including heat. There was more than enough room to seat six comfortably.

She did not have long to examine her surroundings before she was joined by Greenly, who took the seat beside the opposite window, and Hal, who sat in the center seat directly opposite of them.

"Well, I suppose this means we don't need to appoint a designated driver for the night," Hal said slyly.


	10. Chapter 10

Maria tuned out the conversation between her employer and his head of security while her gaze remained on the window or, more accurately, what lay outside the limousine window. The interior of the vehicle was dark but that did nothing to dispel the very real, very present sensation of Greenly's leg pressed against hers. Every so often, he would make a hand gesture that ghosted her knee but neither his facial expression nor his body betrayed anything about their physical contact.

Clouds blanketed the stars. Any stray light from street lamps or the large estates reflected off the bottom layer and created a purple haze. Maria smirked at the unbidden reference that passed through her mind.

Slowly, the limousine turned left and proceeded down a long driveway lit by small artificial garden lanterns. The rings of light met at their most outer boundaries and created a path by which a vehicle could travel. After what like an eternity, her eyes were able to distinguish what appeared to be an enormous, Gothic mansion.

The closer the vehicle came, the larger the mansion grew until it seemed more of a castle than anyone's home. Light blazed against the enormous steel-and-glass windows of the first floor which were darkened by fleeting figures. As her eyes moved up she noted the remained of the windows were lit by actual candles that had been placed on the window sills.

'Fire hazard?' She thought to herself as the limousine rolled to a stop. A moment later, the door closest to her seat swung open and a large hand appeared, palm upright. She felt a gentle nudge to her side and reached out, taking the chauffer's hand. The air was cold and she could see tendrils of white smoke billow against the dim light.

"Mr. Greenly, welcome to the Massachusetts' Historical Society," said a warm voice that suddenly filled the vehicle. Maria glanced over in time to see Hal roll his eyes before his face resumed its expression of cultured indifference.

"Wait," he whispered in her ear, fluidly moving around her and out the door before she could blink. Long, lithe fingers extended outward and she gently placed her hand within his. With a forceful tug, Maria's body out of the vehicle toward her employer without any way to slow her forward momentum.

Her rapid, graceless fall was mercifully stopped by an arm wrapped around her waist. Her eyes immediately darted upward and rested on an infuriating smirk. His embrace lasted several seconds longer than necessary and she felt her face grow incredibly hot.

"Steady there," Greenly advised her, the amusement clear in his voice. Maria had no doubt he had staged the entire scene.

"Um, yeah, thanks," she murmured, rising and pulling away simultaneously to stand at a respectable distance from her 'date', or at least she hoped the distance was respectable.

"Relax," the word was a rushed whisper and even as she turned her head she found herself being gently led toward the well-lit entrance of the mansion. Tiny flashes of white and red lights intruded upon her peripheral vision. Some remote portion of her brain processed that, not only was the media present, but her presence on the arm of her stunning bachelor employer was being carefully recorded by local media and the paparazzi from the national gossip rags.

One overly-zealous photographer took a step toward the trio only to be met with Hal's large, imposing body. His lips curled upward in a tight smirk before he swung his left arm out in a gesture for the photographer to return to his colleagues.

"You can't do this!" The man screeched. "This is a public place – "

"It is _not_ a public place," Hal snarled. "You are on _private _property by _invitation only_." Maria found herself gently, yet insistently, pulled past the image-hungry throngs and into the foyer of the grand mansion. Almost mechanically she exchanged words of greeting and introduction with various individuals and couples as Greenly continued to lead her toward the dance floor.

"I apologize," his voice beside her ear. Startled, she turned to face him.

"Don't mind me," she replied dryly. "I'm not cut out for these things." The corners of his lips tugged upward into a strained smile. She closed her eyes and attempted to shut out the remainder of the sensory information that threatened to overload her mind.

"What would you like to drink?" He asked.

"Uh, Scotch," she replied without thinking. A stiff drink would be in order if she wanted to survive this night. He raised his left eyebrow in amusement but declined to comment further.

"Ah, bloody vultures!" Hal huffed. Several seconds passed and his large hand rested on his shoulder. "Hey, Ma – "

"Here you are," Greenly interrupted, hand surreptitiously sliding around her waist while placing a plastic glass in her hand.

'Classy,' she thought passively as she took a sip. The alcohol burned all the way down her throat and into her stomach, her empty stomach; not much would be required before she would be drunk.

"Lucas!"

Maria visibly cringed as she recognized the voice of Anita Wolferson. Greenly gently squeezed her hand, as if in reassurance before he turned to face the shrill harlot.

"Ms. Wolferson," Greenly greeted her, his voice even and disinterested. The red-haired actress, however, clearly had another objective in mind as she made her way toward the multi-billionaire.

"Oh, Lucas, please don't call me that," she pouted, raising her right arm to his left cheek. With extraordinary grace, Greenly eased back so that any physical contact between them would be awkward. "After all, we were very close friends until recently."

Maria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Slowly, she began to ease herself backward and away from what she knew would turn into an explosion. Beside her, she could feel the tension radiate from Hal's body while he focused a laser-like stare at the actress.

"Right, well, it was good to see you – "

"Oh my god!" Wolferson shrieked, lifting an arm loaded with rings and bracelets containing precious metals and gemstones. "It's her! I can't believe it!"

Maria's heart dropped as she watched the long, manicured finger extend toward her in an accusatory manner. Greenly's head quickly moved between them. His hand slid around her wrist and yanked her forward unceremoniously. Hal's hand on her lower back prevented her from twisting her ankle in the heels she wore.

"Anita, you've met Maria DiBella, my personal assistant," Greenly spoke in a carefully neutral voice.

"Personal assistant?!" Wolferson shrieked. "More like a personal dyke bodyguard. That bitch threw me out of your house!"

Maria felt a searing wave of anger toward the woman. She was shallow, vapid, and stupid, using sexuality as an insult and creating a scene.

'I didn't even want to be here,' she lamented silently.

"Excuse me, Ms. Wolferson, but I think that is quite enough," Hal stepped in front of her like a human shield, then he lowered his voice. "You will stay away from Mr. Greenly and Ms. DiBella. If you so much as go near them without their express permission then I make certain you regret all of your childish spectacles for the rest of your pathetic life."

Maria had only caught the tail end of Hal's threat as she turned to find some small, hidden corner to collect herself and put her thoughts and feelings in order. She needed to get away from Greenly, Hal, and the drama created by Wolferson.

Through the doors to the side of the ballroom, to the left, was what appeared to be a hallway, darkness pierced by a blazing red 'EXIT' sign about twenty feet away from where she stood. Fifty feet away she saw a pair of glass French doors, the panes and frame decorated in worn brass.

She briefly wondered whether the doors were locked. Her thought were interrupted by someone opening the door, temporarily amplifying the music and conversation.

"Maria," Greenly called out.

"Yeah? Here!" She replied, internally cursing herself for her acquiescence.

"Hey," he said, voice close to her ear. Maria knew if she looked over her shoulder she would find him physically far closer than was comfortable.

"Hey," she replied, taking a few tiny steps forward before swiveling slowly on the balls of her feet to face him. In spite of the soft smile on his face, concern glittered in his eyes.

"How are you?" Greenly asked. A moment later he closed his eyes and exhaled as if he realized his question was ridiculous. "What I meant is, are you alright?"

Had she not been so annoyed by Wolferson's temper tantrum, the fact she placed in the middle of the spectacle, and just the general discomfort of the masquerade, she would have done more than shrug. Maria did not trust herself to make a verbal response.

"You are angry with me," he mused.

"No, I'm not angry with you Lucas," she replied with a heavy sigh. "But I am confused as to why I'm here as your date instead of someone more suited to be in the society pages and tabloids."

Shoving his hands deep within the pockets of his tuxedo pants Greenly's eyes immediately fell to the floor where they remained for several more long, awkward moments. The sensation of a thousand pinpricks spread over her stomach, shoulders, arms, and back as she felt a slow, familiar burn kindled in her intestines. Greenly may have been her employer but she refused to stand by and allow herself to simply be used for some secret purpose.

At least, it was a secret to her.

"Perhaps you should consider that I asked you to come because I just wanted to enjoy your company," he suggested, voice low but filled with confidence.

"And I thought that you wanted to earn my trust," Maria retorted. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

"I had thought to do that by telling you the truth," Greenly replied, a faint note of irritation in his voice. "But I see that you are too suspicious for that to even be possible." His sapphire eyes burned into hers for a moment before he turned to leave.

His spoken observation was not the first of its kind yet, for the first time in her life, she actually paused to consider what he said. Her paranoia and distrust of others kept her isolated from all but the few that had forced themselves through her barriers. Now her boss, with whom she had called a truce only the night before, understandably did not want to have to fight too hard to get closer to her.

"Lucas, wait," she called, voice heavy with resignation. Immediately, he stopped and turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. "You're right, I'm paranoid and I do have a hard time trusting people. It's not fair and I'm sorry."

When several, silent moments passed Maria released an exasperated huff.

"You know what? Never mind – "

"No, I …," he extended his hand toward her. "… just was not certain what to say, except …." He wrapped his fingers around hers, smirking.

"I never give up."


	11. Chapter 11

"Would you care to dance?" Greenly's question surprised her and she jerked her face toward him.

"Um, I don't really dance so I don't think …," she trailed off as he placed her left hand on his right shoulder and lifted her other hand. His right hand rested firmly on her lower back, just above the swell of her rear end as he smiled devilishly at her. His sapphire eyes locked intensely on hers, drawing her inside until her entire world narrowed to encompass only the two of them. A bluesy number, romantic, swirled around them and all other noise dropped away.

"You dance remarkably well for someone who doesn't," he teased her.

"Well, you lead remarkably well," she retorted, grinning in spite of herself. Greenly continued to lead them around the room with a grace that left Maria speechless and more than a little jealous. Yet, as much as she tried to distract her mind, her thoughts continued traveled in a circuit that included fear of tripping in her heels, Anita Wolferson, and the future of her employment with Lucas Greenly.

"You are thinking too hard," Greenly interrupted her cyclical worries.

"I apologize," Maria replied dryly. "You must be accustomed to women who don't think at all."

Much to her surprise, instead of growing angry Greenly erupted into genuine laughter. She assumed she imagined it but she could have sworn she felt his hand tug her body physically closer to his own.

"Touche, Ms. DiBella," he remarked, his voice thick with his amusement and mischief sparkled in his eyes. "You are largely correct. Most women are far more interested in what I can _offer _them and less about any intelligent conversation they could have with me."

His innuendo was not lost on her but she refused to retreat from his blatant challenge.

"Lucas …," she began, warning him.

"There you are!" Hal exclaimed, appearing very suddenly between the two of them. Maria was not oblivious to the dark glare Greenly directed toward Hal. The other blonde man merely shrugged before he turned his attention toward her.

"Ms. DiBella, would you be so kind as to allow me this dance with you?" Hal asked, a teasing chivalry.

"But of course," she heard herself reply with exaggerated formality. Before she could blink again, she was swept up in the muscular arms of Greenly Enterprises' security chief. Less than a foot separated them as Hal led her around the ballroom, grinning slyly.

"You seem very pleased with yourself," she managed as they drew closer to the band on the little stage. Hal's lips moved in response but she was unable to hear him. Her eyes roamed the large room, watching the people dance and mingle beneath the vaulted ceiling but she was actually searching for Greenly among the party revelers.

"I said, 'Very much so'," Hal murmured into her ear. She jumped, surprised and proceeded to swat the large blonde on the shoulder. He simply laughed and continued to pull her along on a tour-de-dance for which was not entirely ready.

"He likes you, you," Hal's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Who?" She asked, blinking up at him owlishly. Hal's handsome face briefly dissolved into a scowl and then was quickly replaced by his customary, bemused smirk.

"Really, Maria?" He questioned her. "Are you really going to play coy with me right now?" She turned her face away from him and found herself staring into the face of the man in question.

"If I may?" Greenly asked tightly, forcibly pulling her arms from the taller man before taking her into his arms. Hal merely inclined his head to the left before he disappeared into the crowd.

"Lucas, I – "

"Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked abruptly, though seemingly disinterested in the answer. She rolled her eyes, allowing them to come to rest on a couple in the center of the dance floor. She chuckled as the middle-aged woman bobbed and swayed drunkenly, sometimes leaning too far from her partner and sometimes she leaned too close. Her Mardi Gras style green mask could not conceal her bloodshot eyes.

"Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. George Bannon," Greenly began, his voice low. "Mr. Bannon is an investment banker and Mrs. Bannon sits on the boards of a dozen charities. Both come from old money, both are chronic lushes, and both are shameless philanderers."

Maria whipped her head around to face him though Greenly's face remained turned toward the drunken duo.

"Shame, really," he continued. "Never in all my years have I seen a couple so afraid to be in-love that they would waste their lives running from another."

"Really? That's what you see?" She scoffed at him, though something about his words made her uneasy. Nevertheless, she continued. "Two adulterers afraid to talk to each other?

"No, I did not say they were afraid to speak with each other," he corrected her. "I said they were afraid of their love for each other." She paused a few seconds to consider his observation.

"That is actually tragic," she remarked. "I mean, some people wait their entire lives to find love and some people manage to have it, though it's temporary, fleeting. And then there are people who have it and choose to hide from it, instead of take the risk.

"You know what? Never mind, I apologize – I sound like a lame, hopeless romantic."

Greenly smiled sadly and shook his head a few times. He continued to direct the direction and pace of their dance.

"I do not think you sound like a 'lame, hopeless romantic'," he remarked. "And I find your outlook refreshingly practical and balanced."

"Oh stop, you're going to make me blush and that will destroy my reputation as a cold-hearted bitch," she joked.

"Well, we would not want that now, would we?" His voice resumed its bored, disinterested tone. Immediately, she closed her mouth and fumed silently while she mentally reviewed the events of the past few hours. His strange mood swings, possessiveness, disinterest, and volatility had finally taken its toll. Her body continued to move along with his lead but she was listening for a change in the music so that she politely leave their dance.

"Hey, where are you going?" Greenly asked, pulling her closer. She stumbled a little, uncertain whether it was the liquor or mental chaos that had disrupted her otherwise reliable coordination to remain on her feet.

"Easy," he murmured, moving his face until she had no other choice than to stare him directly in the eye.

"Look," she began, then winced at her own choice of words. "Don't you think you've humiliated me enough already?" His handsome face twisted into an expression of confusion.

"I do not understand …," he confessed.

xxxx

Leaving the masquerade was much easier than arriving.

Due to the late hour, the majority of the paparazzi had vacated their posts. Hal had no difficulty shielding both she and Greenly from the camera phones and discreet video recorders while he herded them toward the limousine.

"Mr. Greenly?" A voice suddenly shouted. "Did you really hire this woman to be your date tonight?"

The question made her pause.

"Where on earth did you hear such tripe?" Greenly growled.

"Is it true?" The voice replied arrogantly, challenge clear. She felt herself trapped between beating a hasty retreat into the confines of the limo and defending her employer from the paparazzi.

"No, it's not true," she heard herself say.

"What was that, miss?"

"Maria," she heard Hal's warning tone. Instead of retreat, she turned to face the small horde that had somehow managed to press even closer to the vehicle.

"I said, 'no, it's not true'," she repeated herself, leveling her gaze at the paparazzo whose face was obscured by a large recording device. "Mr. Greenly asked me to accompany him to this even some time ago and I agreed because he's my friend. So we came to support a good cause and to have a good time.

"That enough of a video clip for you?" Without waiting for a response, she turned back to the limo and climbed into the back seat. She collapsed into the corner directly behind the driver's seat while she tugged Hal's coat tightly around herself.

Maria realized that as soon as the door had closed she would likely get an earful from Greenly and his head of security.

"That was incredible!" Hal exclaimed, surprising her.

"What? That?" She replied weakly. He leaned across the space that separated them, taking her hands into his own and kissed them reverently.

"Truly remarkable," he continued. "Off-the-cuff, no script at all, and you just - ."

"Did not have to do that," came a lower, more wary voice to her right. Greenly was leaning against the door to his left, forehead cradled in his hand while his eyes glittered in the dim light of the compartment; completely focused on her. She shifted slightly, tugging at the evening gown in an effort not to meet the stares of both men.

"So I should have just remained quiet and allowed that idiot to infer whatever he felt like?" Maria snapped, angry. Her heart sank as Greenly's eyebrows simultaneously rose toward his hairline. "Sorry, I didn't get a tutorial on dealing with the media when I took this job, or accepted your invite."

Hal chuckled sympathetically and shook his head. She could do nothing but glare at him in response.

"Relax, Maria, we are allies," he said, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I believe what Lucas meant is that now you have drawn the limelight onto yourself."

"It is a difficult burden to bare," Greenly chimed in quickly, his gaze seemingly locked on her.

"Well, tomorrow I'm back to being the employee at a privately-held company," she sniffed, turning her head so that she could gaze out the window. There was nothing but the reflection of the dome light in the dark glass and she sighed with frustration.

"Perhaps," Greenly mused.


	12. Chapter 12

She blinked several times in the dim hope that staring at the ceiling might somehow resurrect her missing memories. Time passed and still she was unable to fill in the gaps between falling asleep in Greenly's limousine and waking up in her own bed.

Stretching, she felt thin fabric brush against her bare thighs as the heavy linens moved along her body. Suddenly, she paused as her mind struggled to process the sensations. Her hands dove beneath the comforter to discover she was dressed in a long, V-neck shirt.

She did not own a V-neck shirt.

Quickly, she shoved away the covers and looked down. She was, indeed, wearing a long, white V-neck undershirt. A gasp escaped her and she yanked the blankets up to her chin once more.

Maria was almost certain that someone had stripped her out of her gown and then redressed her, likely in his shirt. Greenly? Hal? Either man seemed to be a likely candidate for the task and both men were likely to blame the other, or blow her off.

'Because you were drunk, angry, and you feel asleep before the car had reached the manor,' came a tiny voice in the back of her mind. Her head moved back and forth rapidly to shake away both the voice and the regret.

An indignant huff escaped her as she threw back the covers. Her breath caught in her throat as she was forced, visually, to accept that she was wearing a man's undershirt without a clear idea as to whom it belonged.

Several long moments passed as she attempted to wrap her mind around her present, her reality. Too many events, too much time was missing to be anything other than completely confused and, truthfully, angry. Sitting bolt upright, she threw the covers from her body and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Force of will alone drove her through her morning routine. Her body moved on autopilot as her mind carefully replayed the previous twenty-four hours. She recalled her exchange with Greenly and Hal in the limousine and that her eyes had grown heavy from the alcohol, dancing, and cold.

-ooo-

_"You worry too much, my friend," Hal's voice broke through the dull hum of the cabin. _

_ "And you do not worry enough!" Greenly retorted. "What sort of security head are you that you would allow an employee to suffer – "_

_ "She is a grown woman, Le – Lucas," Hal replied, irritation clear in his voice. Maria could only wonder at whatever word had been about to use. Legos? _

_ "Yes, who did not ask to become involved in this!" Greenly hissed._

_ "It was _you_ who thought it wise to bring an everyday woman to a high-end social event without training, much less a warning!" Hal replied. _

_ "You forget yourself, Haldir!" _

_ Suddenly, their conversation changed from English to something that vaguely reminded her of Gaelic. Unable to understand another word, she allowed the blackness to enclose her with blissful sleep. _

-ooo-

At the time, she was too drunk to care but now her stomach twisted into a knot as she realized she was the continued topic of conversation among the two men. Her eyes focused on her face in the mirror, hands busily attempting to tame her wet hair with the blow-dryer and hair product even as she attempted to quell the panic that rose in her stomach.

Thirty minutes and several silent, self-deprecating, albeit silent, chastisements later, she was prepared to face the world as a woman who actually took care of herself. Never before had she made the effort to take such care of herself but something had changed within the last two days.

Her cell phone indicated that it was nearly nine o'clock. She could wander to the kitchen, find something to eat, or she could explore the property a little more.

"Hey!" Nichole greeted her. "How was the masquerade ball?'

"Glittery, fun, dramatic," Maria replied, leaning against the stall door. She felt a warm muzzle push against her shoulder. Glancing up, she found herself face-to-snout with a large white stallion. 'Shadowfax,' proclaimed the engraved placard attached to the stall door.

"Hello, sir," Maria murmured, petting the soft, short hairs of his head.

"He likes you," the veterinarian exclaimed, a genuine smile on her face. "That's pretty amazing."

"How so?" She asked absently, her fingers gently stroked the white stallion's soft coat. He released a warm puff of air against her hair which sent several locks into her face and eyes. Brushing them aside, she continued to pet the beautiful animal as her thoughts overwhelmed her.

"Usually, Shadowfax nips at anyone who gets too close to his stall, or ignores them altogether," the veterinarian added.

"Maybe he thinks I have a treat for him," Maria murmured. "He would be wrong though." She smiled indulgently at the horse who continued to nuzzle her hair, snorting forcefully enough to send her hair flying around her hair

"Actually, I'm amazed because Shadowfax usually only shows any interest in Lucas or I," Nichole continued. "Lucas, for obvious reasons, and me because he's been forced to deal with me for so long."

"Not so amazing if one knows the animal," a third, familiar voice broke into the conversation.

In only a few seconds her face had gone from chilled by the late autumn air to boiling hot. She did not dare raise her face to look at her boss. Internally, she cursed her misfortune to encounter him so soon after the previous night and so soon after she had awoken wearing a man's undershirt. Through her peripheral vision she stole a glance at him and found, very much to her consternation, his gaze focused upon her.

"Here we go," Nichole muttered, sarcasm heavy in her voice and seemingly oblivious to the tension between Maria and Lucas. "The veterinarian does not know the patient she sees everyday …."

"And the best veterinarian _ever_," Greenly complimented quickly. "I am truly blessed that you remain in my employ when you could easily be working – "

"Oh, honestly Lucas!" Nichole exclaimed. "You're distracting me from my job. Yes, I have your undying gratitude, yahda, yahda, yahda. Ugh! If you're so grateful then you can do me a favor."

"Oh?" Greenly asked, a slight edge of warning in his voice. "And what would that be?"

"Saddle up your _steed_ and take both yourself and Ms. DiBella out of here," the veterinarian suggested. "Show her the property, or whatever."

There was no mistaking the smirk on the other woman's face as she scribbled something onto a clipboard. A strong arm gently pulled her away from the gate and guided her over to a bench in the large, open space at the center of the barn. Greenly then returned to the stall, opening the door and led Shadowfax forward with a practiced ease that spoke to years of experience.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before, Maria?" Greenly asked, his voice casual while his fingers speedily fastened the bridle on the horse's muzzle. The white stallion remained perfectly still and almost seemed at ease while the blonde man finished with the reins.

"Uh," Maria replied. "A zillion years ago but I don't think I'd call it riding so much as someone leading the poor horse around by a rope." Greenly chuckled, extending his hand toward her in an invitation.

"Really? Ride a horse? With _you_?" She heard herelf squeak.

"You did not object when Nichole suggested it a few moments ago," he pointed out.

"Not really too awake yet, you know," she attempted to deflect his observation. Her heart started to thud so forcefully against her chest that her own breaths were interrupted by the intensity. "But, um, I'll just leave you to – "

Before she could utter another word, she found herself seated on Shadowfax's back, not saddle, and Greenly seated directly behind her. This time, her breath truly did hitch in her throat as his arm wound around her waist.

"What about the saddle?" She objected, weakly.

"Shadowfax prefers to be ridden without a saddle," Greely replied matter-of-factly. A red flag immediately flared within her mind.

'Shadowfax prefers?' She wondered silently. The horse's back was firm, muscular, and warm, though she was certain she could actually feel a few of the animal's vertebrae digging into her ass. Powerful thighs rested against her own legs as his left arm wrapped around her waist.

"To prevent your fall," he assured her, legs tensing against Shadowfax briefly before the stallion broke into a brisk trot. Maria's breath hitched briefly, her mind struggled to catch up with the sensations that assailed her body as her right hand reflexively clasped his forearm. Immediately, her body tensed as her fingers registered the strong muscle flexing beneath the layers of clothes.

"If you wish to hold my hand, you need only ask," he teased. Her fingers twitched in response only to be stilled by a larger, heavier weight.

"What are you …," Maria began, trailing off as she heard him chuckle.

"Relax, _melleth_," he cooed, lips brushing against the outer shell of her ear. Her body trembled as her mind processed the reality of her situation. Well beyond acceptable employer-employee interaction, Maria could not prevent the tendrils of fear from wrapping around her intestines and warred with the fluttering warmth she naturally felt from Greenly's proximity.

"I – I really should go …," she stammered. Immediately, his arm tensed and wrapped even more tightly around her. She could feel his powerful thighs brush against the backs of her legs as he urged Shadowfax into a gallop.

"Oh my God!" She shrieked, closing her eyes as Greenly urged the horse faster. She could see nothing and realized the only that prevented her from flying off the animal was his secure hold around her torso. "What are you doing?"

"Well, if you must run away then you shall run away with me today," he teased her.

"I'm not running away," she sputtered, cracking her eyelids slightly. Shadowfax flew across the large open field toward the forest that surrounded the estate. According to Julian, the woods extended for miles and had been in the Greenly family pre-dating the American Revolution.

"You most certainly attempted to run away once you were on Shadowfax's back," he retorted quickly. "Tell me which frightens you more: The horse or me?"

"Oh, well, now that's just ridiculous," she immediately scoffed, irritated with the sensation of her heart thudding rapidly against her chest, betraying her lie.

"Why do you find that so ridiculous?" Greenly continued to tease her. "Your heart beats much faster than it did a few minutes ago. Is it that you are riding a large, powerful horse? Or perhaps my mere physical proximity to you causes your heart to race so."

"Arrogant much?" She managed to retort through gritted teeth, annoyed. He was fully aware of the effect he had on women.

"Merely practical," he replied casually.

"Ugh, I want off this ride," she declared. "Between your large head and the horse, I think I need to spend my day off _away_ from here." Her statement was met with a chuckle.

"Humor me," Greenly replied.

Maria decided to ignore him in an effort to calm her racing heart.

"I've humored you – " She stopped at the same instant Greenly brought Shadowfax to a halt. They had reached the edge of the forest and Greenly smoothly slid off the back of the horse. She watched him tie the reins to a medium-sized tree before offering her his hand.

"It will not bite you," he teased. Gingerly, she laid her palm against his as his other wrapped around her waist to guide her to the ground. When she glanced up she found herself trapped in his sapphire gaze, his customary smirk gone. His eyes darted downward for several long seconds before returning to hers.

'My mouth, oh gods, he was looking at my mouth,' her mind shouted at her. She had done nothing to discourage as he tilted his head slightly to the right before swooping in to capture her lips.

Greenly paused momentarily, long eyelashes momentarily fluttering upward until their gazes locked before he pressed his mouth even more firmly against hers. Never before had Maria given credence to anything Jen had touted by way of romance but this kiss fulfilled the description of, 'being knocked senseless'.

His tongue carefully traced her upper lip before sucking the flesh into her mouth. Gasping, her jaw fell slack and his tongue darted inside to continue its sensual assault. The tip traced along her teeth and the roof of her mouth before forcefully tangling with her tongue. A small whimper escaped her throat and seemed to encourage him as hand clasped the back of her head as if to prevent any escape.

"You taste like honey and … spring," he gasped when he finally broke their kiss.

"Lucas," she began, equally breathless and, moreover, confused.

Maria had no idea how much time had passed but when Greenly pulled away she found herself breathing heavily as her hands clutched the thick fabric of his Carhart jacket.

"Don't," he cut her off. "_Don't_ say my name, not right now. Alright?"

Maria briefly recoiled from him while her mind continued to attempt to make sense of what had just transpired between them. His expression softened and her heartrate soared as his right hand tenderly cupped the left side of her face.

"I am sorry, I did not mean … I am not angry with you … I …, " he trailed off repeatedly. She felt her brow scrunch into an expression of confusion. "I would like to show you something, something very sacred to me."

Curiosity piqued, Maria nodded dumbly before she felt Greenly's large hand clasp hers and pull her forward. She stumbled, her feet searching for traction within the semi-frozen mud as she continued after him. He seemed almost exuberant, like a young child, as he practically dragged her through the dead underbrush and over protruding roots of ancient trees. Once her chest started to heave more frequently she realized that she was being led up a hill.

"Where are we going?" She managed to huff. Stopping briefly, Greenly turned his face toward her and Maria felt as if all of the air had disappeared from her chest. Sapphire eyes glinting, broad grin on his face, he tugged her forward with renewed enthusiasm and she was unable to do anything but stumble along after him.

After what felt like hours, the ground started to level and she noted they were only a couple hundred feet from what appeared to be the top. Greenly's grip on her wrist never loosened, though at time he slowed so that she could regain her balance and breath.

"We are here," he said, coming to a sudden stop.


	13. Chapter 13

Awestruck, speechless, shocked – those were only a few of the words she had to describe the sight that stretched before her.

Greenly had led her to the top of a very tall, very steep cliff that dropped off into a valley far below. Bare trees stretched out as far as the eye could see surrounded by a vast carpet of dead, dried, and moldering leaves. A steel gray, late-morning sky stretched over the scene and disappeared into the horizon created by the distant treeline.

The howling wind echoed off the rock face stirring the skeletal branches of the trees. Creaking and moaning, the wooden appendages rubbed against each other and brought to mind the horror movies Maria had so eagerly watched in droves when she was younger.

"What is this place?" She finally managed to ask.

"Greenwood is a much larger … estate than what most people realize," Greenly began, voice wistful. His grip on her hand loosened but only enough to interlace their fingers together. Maria felt gooseflesh rise over her entire body from his intimate gesture.

"So it's mostly forested?" She heard herself ask, attempting to distract herself from his presence. He was so close that each breath brought a lungful of his intoxicating scent.

"Over one-hundred acres of largely untouched, pristine, natural woodland," Greenly replied matter-of-factly. Casually, he wrapped his arm around her torso as he pressed his upper body against her back.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "I mean, for trees in hibernation and all – "

"You know about the sleeping of the trees?" He interrupted her, twisting her until they were face-to-face. Maria instinctively gulped as the height difference between them became obvious.

"Sure," she shrugged. "I paid attention in my biology classes. Besides, they can't be dead of they grow new leaves in the spring and summer, now can they?"

A light ignited in the depths of his dark blue eyes as they peered into hers.

'Almost as if he can read my soul,' she thought.

"This property has been in my family since before the War of Independence," Greenly continued, slowly turning his face toward the ravine.

"How is that even possible?" She practically sputtered. "Only British gentry had holdings as great as this. There's no way the Continental Congress would have allowed - ."

"Oh, someone knows her history," he smirked, his arm curling even more tightly around her body. The sharp point of his chin came to rest on her shoulder. "No, it is true that we kept the majority of our holdings from that time. Large sections were sold off as a form of compromise and manner of protection from the new government but at the same time, we always knew that the natural lands needed protection from everyone."

"Sounds like your family was ahead of its time," Maria murmured, senses slightly dulled from the tight embrace in which she found herself.

"You have no idea," he whispered, mouth again by her ear again. She shivered, internally cursing herself for allowing him to affect her. He had thrown her off balance since their encounter in the stables.

'Honestly, he has been throwing me off balance since last night,' she thought. Reality crowded around the edges of her thoughts and with the reality came questions and doubts about Greenly's true motives and intentions.

Leaning forward slightly, she broke his embrace and proceeded to take several steps away from him. His sigh was audible but he did not attempt to prevent her escape. Her foot slipped, sending loose dirt and stones over the edge of the cliff onto the forest floor below.

"It's a long way down," she remarked dryly as she attempted to force the sensation of dizziness she felt.

'So close to the edge, stray but a little and you shall fail ….'

"Maria?" His voice interrupted her errant thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Yep, fine, just need to reacquaint myself with nature … I guess," she replied, amazed with how easily the lie fell from her mouth.

"Hmm, you do not lie well, _melleth_," he replied. Immediately she noted the use of the semi-familiar word, 'melleth'. He had used that word before as if it was a term of endearment.

"I'm sorry, I just don't understand," Maria admitted before she could censor herself.

"What do you not understand?" He asked. Staring over the edge, her chest started to heave with labored breaths; the first symptoms of a panic attack.

"Maria," Greenly began, turning her suddenly stiffened body until she was eye-level with his chest. His large, warm hand cupped the left side of her face as he gently tilted her chin upward. A frown marred his angelic face, sapphire eyes darted over her as if checking for injuries or other wounds.

"What troubles you so?"

"You," she replied. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. Dipping her head, she silently searched for the words that would offend him least while explaining her mental torment.

"I don't understand this sudden change, this sudden interest in me," Maria continued. His dark eyebrows fell and his expression softened. "I'm just your assistant - ."

He cut off her speech by pressing his index finger against her lips. She found herself transfixed in his deep blue gaze, unable to continue.

"_You _made it change; you made _everything_ change for me," he replied in a low, husky voice. "And, you are not _just_ anything. You are so much more. You are …." He trailed off in hesitation.

She averted her gaze but the intensity of his stare did not diminish. His finger left her lips and curled beneath her chin, forcefully tugging it up. Eyes half-lidded, he pressed a gentle kiss against the right corner of her mouth, followed by another, and another, until his lips took full possession of her own.

A small whimper escaped her throat and her skin exploded with the sensation of pins and needles across her shoulders, back, and chest. The prickling sensation shot down into her abdomen. An intense heat flooded her core as she grew wet with arousal. His kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if he had sensed her growing desire.

'Impossible,' the rational part of her mind attempted to soothe her seemingly errant thoughts.

"Maria," he breathed, pulling away from her only to lean forward and press his forehead to hers. "You know not what you do to me."

The remainder of the day passed her by in a blur. Greenly had led her along the cliff's edge, pointing out various sites, before promising her that he would bring her into the valley during the spring. Maria could only nod, the shock and confusion of his words and actions weighed heavily on her mind and left her with a queasy sensation in her stomach; her employment was in very real jeopardy and she needed her job.

"Your position here is quite secure," his voice interrupted her train-of-thought. Startled, she turned her head away from the skeletal trees toward him.

"I never said that," she replied, voice shaking.

"Forgive me but you were thinking so loudly I could clearly hear it," he said, voice teasing but the serious expression on his belied his words. She suppressed the urge to shiver in response to the cold, snaky feeling winding its way along her spine.

"Um, right," she retorted with unnaturally heavy sarcasm, raising an eyebrow at him in a challenge.

"You worry that I will terminate you because our relationship has crossed yet another boundary," he replied, a carefully neutral expression on his handsome face. "We have gone from strangers, to friends, to lovers – "

"I would not go so far as to say we're 'lovers', Lucas," she interrupted him quickly. Less than a second later, she found herself being lifted onto Shadowfax's bare back followed by a tensing of equine muscle beneath her legs and rear end. Greenly's strong arm once more wrapped firmly around her waist as he guided the horse toward the clearing beyond the treeline.

"Then are we 'friends with benefits'?" He asked, teasing her again as Shadowfax trotted into the open field that separated the woods from the barn.

"I don't know," she replied. "Are we?"

Her only response was a chuckle as he drove the white stallion into a gallop across the icy, cold field.

Greenly's fingers deftly unfastened Shadowfax's bridle and gently removed it from the horse before handing it to her with a gesture toward where to place it. Gratefully, she accepted the piece of tack and the opportunity to place some physical distance between them so that she could sort out her roiling emotional state.

Placing the leather tack on the hook, she stared unblinkingly at it for several moments while she attempted to regain her composure. Greenly was her employer but he had taken several opportunities to physically communicate with her that he wanted more, much more.

The taste of his mouth had embedded itself in her mental and sensual memories. Maria felt her entire body grow hot from the still fresh, vivid memory. Her mind drifted to the clifftop, when he took her hand within his and explained to her the significance of the acres of seemingly lifeless trees that stretched out across the acres below them.

Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. There truly was no escape from what her instincts internally screamed at her.

"Would you care to dine with me this evening?" He asked, sapphire eyes boring into her gaze with an intensity that she was unable to resist.

"Haven't you wasted enough time with me over the last two days?" She asked, half teasing.

"First of all, time with _you_ is _never_ wasted," Greenly replied. "Second, I do not believe that there is such a thing as 'enough time' with you." Her stomach flip-flopped while the sensation of a thousand needless pressed against her arms, shoulders and back.

"Wow, I'm not really sure how I should respond to that," Maria responded truthfully. Long fingers wrapped around her wrist in a vise-like grip and tugged upward until her open palm was even with his chin. Sapphire eyes remained locked on hers as he gently pressed his warm, moist mouth against her exposed palm.

Maria was certain that his gesture was the most erotic thing she had ever seen and experienced in her entire life. Greenly's eyes briefly fluttered closed.

"That you will have supper with me tonight," he replied softly, a sly grin spreading across his statuesque face. "At least, I would prefer that response to almost any other."

"Of course," she agreed. His eyebrows shot up nearly to his golden hairline. "I mean, I would be very pleased to have supper with you this evening, L – ." She let his name die on her lips, unwilling to agitate him further as he had been so stern and almost angry with her earlier when she had spoken his name.


	14. Chapter 14

Hands on her hips, she stared disdainfully into the shallow space of her closet and for the umpteenth time wondered why she had agreed to have dinner with him. Less than an hour remained before she was to meet Greenly and she was no closer to choosing an appropriate outfit than she had been three hours prior when they returned.

'Ugh, give it up woman, you have the fashion sense of a blind man,' a harsh voice interrupted her concentration. 'You have never particularly cared about the opinion of the opposite sex before; they do not even see you.'

As much as she wanted to banish the voice of self-doubt that echoed through her mind she, nevertheless, realized that it had a point. There was no hope for her.

Heavily, she drew out a long-sleeved black shirt and pulled a pair of dark blue jeans from her dresser drawer. Maria cringed as she considered the sparseness of her cosmetics and how little makeup could help her.

Forty-five minutes later, she was striding down the long hallway toward the dining room where Greenly typically took his meals alone. She pulled open the large, heavy oak doors and once more found herself at a loss for words.

Tall, tapered candles were lit, resting in ornate brass candelabras placed on the sideboard, portable wet bar, and in the center of the table. Two settings were carefully laid out on the table in a perpendicular manner. Much to Maria's relief there was no excess silverware – just the forks, knife, and spoon. Empty crystal goblets stood in front of the place settings.

"Good evening."

Her body started, hand crossing over her chest to rest directly over the spot where her heart thudded rapidly.

"Um, good evening," she replied, lifting her head so that she could face him, prepared for his disapproval. Instead, she found herself trapped within his deep blue stare while he lifted her right hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. His long, blonde hair hung loosely around his shoulders and she could not help but notice he had dressed as informally as she.

The only word to describe him was, 'beautiful'.

Greenly gently led her to the seat on the long side of the table. With the grace of a gentleman he pulled out her chair just far enough so that she could sink onto the seat. Seconds later, she lifted her head to find him in the seat perpendicular to her own. He was relaxed, a bemused smile on his face that she found both irritated and intrigued her.

Slow, melodic jazz softly filled the air from somewhere near the door to the kitchen. Maria turned her head just in time to see Mrs. O'Donnell beating a hasty retreat. Glancing over her shoulder, the older woman winked before she disappeared from the room.

Greenly moved behind her, pulling out her chair as a gentleman might during a more formal date. He sat down smoothly, liquid grace, and dropped the linen napkin into his lap. His bemused smile had faded to a smirk but his eyes continued to follow her movements with the same intensity with which he had greeted her.

"Wine?" He asked her, his gaze darted to the tall bottle of merlot in the ice bucket. She seized the opportunity to glance away from him, fumbling with her own napkin before dropping it into a heap on her own lap. The faint sound of liquid filling glass met her ears and she finally ventured to look at her employer again.

Red liquid courage nearly reached the top of the wineglass. Maria clasped the stem and took a long, deep sip while her eyes remained fixed his figure. Eyes closed, he appeared to be deep within his own mind or at least savoring the flavor.

"Thank you," she finally managed to mutter, eyes averted in an effort to give him what she thought to be much-needed privacy. He flashed her a 'here-and-gone' smile that she caught from the corner of her eye just before he clasped her chin in his large hand. Forcibly, he pulled her head upward so that she at least momentarily had to look into his eyes.

"Mmm, you were staring at me," he mused, voice a low purr but the glint of danger appeared in his deep blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, attempting to edge backward in her chair. Her heart beat faster and her stomach churned with the fear that coursed through her. Greenly's mood swings not only caught her offguard but seemed to increase in frequency.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Maria added a moment later. He loosened his grip but continued to hold her chin.

"No, no, _I_ am the one who has been rude," he replied. Greenly's mouth opened, as if to say something more, but then abruptly closed a second before a loud knock interrupted the moment.

"Salad and soup," Mrs. O'Donnell announced, holding a wooden tray laden with porcelain bowls of steaming soup and heaping greens. Maria hid her grin as she observed Greenly's scowl. The head chef appeared to ignore him entirely as she set the bowls before them and the condiments typically used to accompany such foods.

"Save room for the entrée," the older woman admonished them before she disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

"I can only imagine what she has prepared if she is admonishing us already," Greenly said, eyes darting up to meet hers before they returned to the food dishes before him.

"I'm sure whatever it is, it's delicious," Maria replied as she forked the vegetables in the bowl. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his intense sapphire blue focused on her in an unwavering gaze.

"I can't help but notice that you're staring at me," she muttered.

"And I can't help but notice your interest in your salad," Greenly replied.

"Yeah, gotta make sure the food makes it from the dish to my mouth and all that," she replied dryly.

"Oh? I thought it was the company," he replied. "It seems your appetite is stimulated by the person with whom you dine."

Easing backward in her chair, Maria forced herself to swallow before carefully resting her fork against the ceramic bowl and placing her linen napkin overtop. There was no mistaking the signal that her meal was concluded. The implication was not lost and she was mentally and emotionally too tired to battle with him over an incident she had thought was forgotten.

'And yet you never attempted to ascertain Daniel's whereabouts. Just relied on rumors from the staff,' the thought rose to her mind, unbidden. Her patience for his allegations had reached an end.

"Perhaps you're right about that," she replied, tone icy. "Eating is much easier for me when I don't have to constantly about hidden messages and intentions. That said, I'll thank you for the salad and see you in the morning.

"That is, of course, if I'm still employed here."

Without waiting for a dismissal, Maria strode purposely toward the dining room doors while she tried to clear the murky red anger from her vision. As her right hand touched the doorknob she heard a loud bang and felt the ripples through her fingertips. Maria took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to find the Greenly's hand firmly placed against the wood.

Her eyes shifted and she slowly turned her head to face him. His lips were drawn in a grim line but his sapphire blue gaze glittered with anger and danger.

'Dignity,' she thought bitterly. 'Obviously I ran out of_ that_ some time ago.'

Her eyes darted toward the door that led to the kitchen area; the door swung loosely as if it had recently been pushed open. Internally, she felt relief that Mrs. O'Donnell had not returned yet with the main course; there was only so much semi-public humiliation she could endure in one evening.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked her in a low, grave voice. Startled from her thoughts, she turned her face toward his with the best poker-face she could attempt to muster under the circumstances.

"Um, out of here," she replied matter-of-factly. "Excuse me."

"No," he replied, eyes fluttering closed.

"'No'?" She repeated in slight disbelief.

"No!" He yelled. Staggering backward a few steps she whirled around to glare at him; any sympathy or empathy she felt suddenly gone. "You are running away."

"And _you_ are acting like a damned Neanderthal," she countered angrily. "You have no right to keep me here. Please _move_."

"Maria, we had such a wonderful day together," he sighed, changing tactics. "What changed?"


	15. Chapter 15

Sheer willpower alone allowed her to maintain a neutral expression while she carefully studied him. The longer she observed him, the more convinced she became cognizant of the fact that he was unaware of the devastation he caused with his actions.

"'_Maria, we had such a wonderful day together," he sighed, changing tactics. "What changed?'" _

"_You did_," she muttered.

"I beg your pardon," he replied, startled. His eyes narrowed perceptibly as he glared at her. Her mind raced, emotions and thoughts battled for dominance while she searched for the right words.

'Right words,' she sneered at herself internally. 'I don't know if I could find the right words with two hands and a flashlight in broad daylight.' She forced herself to stare directly into his eyes while mustering the little courage and patience that remained from the long weekend she had endured.

"Look, maybe no one has ever told you this before, or maybe you've been told a million times, I don't know," Maria sighed. His expression immediately softened and he tilted his head to the side, waiting.

"Honestly, you're … _moody_," she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "One minute you're sweet and attentive and the next you're angry and bitter. And then there's the secrets, always the secrets and the strange, random rules - ."

"Walk with me," he proposed, interrupting her suddenly.

"That's what I mean!" Maria exclaimed. The urge to stomp her foot gnawed at her but she refrained. "Hot and cold with you! I can't keep up. Sometimes, I don't even know if you see me. Did you even _hear_ what I _just _said?"

Greenly froze and an equally frigid shiver shot up her spine. Although he had never been physically violent with her she had no doubt he could easily wage a verbal and psychological assault. The urge to recoil inward nearly brought her to a fetal position on the dining room floor.

'I am _not_ built for this,' she thought sadly. 'Thank the gods my resume is circulating on the temp job boards and with the placement agencies.'

"There is no need to shout, I heard you perfectly well," Greenly replied irritably. "Yes, I have been told before, many times in fact, that I am sometimes … temperamental. Strangely enough, my own a – _father_ was the one who most often told me this while he himself was prone to his fits of temper." His eyes took on a glaze, disembodied quality while he smirked, almost as if reminiscing.

"No one else has ever offered that observation to me."

A sad, wistful longing was heavy in his voice. In that moment, Maria's heart felt as if had turned to lead within her chest and her stomach began to churn the contents of the small amount of food she had eaten.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say something hurtful," she began, eyes firmly fixated on the floor beneath her feet.

"No, you only spoke the truth," he replied with a heavy sigh. "A truth of which I have not been reminded in … a long time. Do not be sorry, _melleth_ because you have done nothing wrong."

Sighing, Maria cast a long look at the door that led to the kitchen. She knew Mrs. O'Donnell would simply wrap up the food she had prepared for remainder of the dinner but her appetite was gone and was unlikely to reappear for many hours. She only hoped the chef would not hold this sudden change against her.

"Walk with me, _please_," he repeated, hope glimmered in his eyes.

"What about the rest of the dinner?" She asked weakly. Staring at him warily.

"It will be wrapped and saved for later," he replied quietly.

"Okay, alright," she replied, voice filled with resignation and hands held up in surrender. Taking a step backward she internally berated herself for so easily succumbing to his wishes. "Though, you will need to excuse me so that I can grab something warm. After all, I don't want to freeze to death."

A large, genuine smile lit up his face and he grabbed her hand. With a gentle tug, she found herself being bodily pulled from the dining room and into the darker hallways completely under the power of the strange man for whom she bitterly acknowledged she had feelings.

She heard hinges creak loudly and the sound of wood shifting weight. Still, she could see nothing in the darkened hallway.

"Lucas?" She called out. Silence greeted her inquiry. Swallowing hard, she called out his name again. The silence after the second cry was nerve-wracking and her eyes darted around the shadowed, dark surroundings nervously.

"Right, so, I'll see you later," she managed to eke out, her heart beating against her ribcage so forcefully she was certain it would crack the bone. Something strong and vise-like grasped her wrist tightly and she screamed as if someone had plunged a butcher's knife into her back.

"Maria!" Greenly's familiar voice cut through her high-pitched wail. "It's just me. Hey, wait a moment." Gulping air as fast as her throat would allow, she protectively clutched her chest as if that would prevent her heart from bursting through her skin or, more to the point, stop altogether.

Two hands clasped her shoulders and in that moment she realized she had squeezed her eyes shut to block out … something. One at a time, her eyelids fluttered opened and she found herself pinned by Greenly's concerned look.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly. "I did not mean to frighten you so." Maria shook her head slowly, as if to reassure him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened there," she admitted, her heartrate finally stabilizing. Although it was a lie, she could not explain the sheer terror that engulfed her in that moment in any rational manner.

'More sleep,' she thought flatly. 'I'm so tired that my reflexes and reactions are completely fucked up. Yet here I am, traipsing after Mr. Moody because - ."

A warm, woolen cap was pulled over her ears and once more she was caught completely off guard. Looking around, she realized she was in a walk-in closet that appeared to be bursting with all of kinds of garments for the outdoors – trench coats, rain jackets, ski jackets, pea coats, and windbreakers interspersed with discarded hats, scarves, umbrellas in no logical order. A single light bulb hung from the low ceiling and illuminated only a foot-wide radius.

"Um," she began. A moment later, she feels scratchy wool against her fingertips while Greenly attempts to force her arms into some heavy garment.

"Just help me put it on you," he said, irritation heavy in his voice. Rolling her eyes, she relaxed her shoulders and allowed him to pull what felt like a heavy coat around her shoulders. Seconds later, she felt the pressure of his hand on her lower back as he herded her outside of the small room and into the hallway.

"Alright," Greenly said, pulling down the hem of an evergreen ski jacket he had donned. The sound of nylon against nylon drew her attention to his left arm that had been extended for her to take.

Almost against her better judgment, her arm wraps around his and she allows him to lead her toward the exit.

Late autumn in New England was far more frigid than to what she had been accustomed. Greenly had bundled her in wool but the cold night air stung her face as they strolled along the stone walkway that surrounded the walkway that surrounded the manor. Part of her was angry that he remained largely uncovered except for the green ski jacket.

"The cold bothers you greatly," he observed, his voice quiet. Maria remained silent for a few moments before she shrugged her left shoulder. Each step echoed from the stone walls of the manor beside them. Maria could not recall the last time she had ever truly recognized the knife's edge between late fall and the start of the winter season.

"I'm not a fan, no," she replied. "I had always hoped that someday I would be able to live in a warmer climate. But that's never been in the cards for me, I'm afraid." She immediately stopped herself from saying more.

"And you would prefer that?" Greenly pressed. "A tropical climate?"

"Really haven't given it much thought lately," she heard herself reply, almost flippantly.

"I do not believe that," the blonde man countered. "I believe you have given it many, many hours of thought."

"Enough about me," she retorted quickly, removing her arm from his so quickly she wobbled in place.

"Careful," he admonished without making a single move to steady her. The lack of contact only heightened the emotional cocktail of inadequacy and insecurity that coursed through her body.

"So, anyway, about _you_," she continued, her face suddenly heated to what felt like more than one-hundred degrees Fehrenheit. "Have you lived here your entire life? I mean, you don't seem that much younger than I am but I could be - ."

The rest of her sentence was immediately cut off by a sound so beautiful she could scarcely believe it was real. Turning her head, she could not stop the disbelieving and somewhat disapproving expression on her face.

'Does the think this is a joke?' She thought as she struggled to remember what she had read about his age. 'Of course Jen would know since she spends ridiculous amounts of time trolling the celebrity sites, real or bullshit.'

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment as I _am_ older than you," Greenly said, mirth still heavy in his voice. "A great deal older than you."

"Um, I think that no matter what I say here I'm going look like an even bigger ass than I already do," she replied. "So tell me, Mr. Greenly, how old are you?"

16


	16. Chapter 16

Greenly paused, the smile fading from his face until only the shadow of a smirk remained. Maria felt her heart drop precipitously to her feet in response. While she did not consider herself vain, she was more than aware that her physical appearance was merely average and

Internally, she girded herself to withstand whatever words next fell from his mouth.

"Millennia, _penneth-amin_." His voice was so low, so soft, that she could practically accept the idea that he was thousands of years old. Rationally, she knew what he claimed was impossible but the part of herself that still believed in fantasy and magic reserved a smidgen of hope.

"_Excuse me_?" She heard herself reply, disbelief rife in her voice. His stare did not waver and his expression did not change in any detectable manner. "You said you are _millennia_ old, as in _thousands of years_?"

Several head nods had been the only response she received from him. Warning klaxons sounded in her head and her mind raced. Maria observed him from the corners of his eyes: His head averted toward the field as the harsh wind whipped long locks of blonde hair around his face. Momentarily she pondered whether she wanted to attempt the minefield or find some way to gracefully retreat.

"Right, okay," she finally replied. "Lucas - ."

"_Don't_ call me _that_," he hissed, head angled to the left as he directed his intense stare toward her.

"Then what _should_ I call you, Mr. Greenly?" She asked dryly. Long, tense moments passed and her muscles painfully constricted into themselves until her entire body ached from the stress.

"Legolas," he whispered, eyes closing as he whispered the name. "My name is Legolas."

The air immediately left her lungs while her eyes, conversely, grew large in response to his statement. 'Legolas', the name, she knew the name well, associated with J.R.R. Tolkien and his Middle Earth stories. An unusual name, even among the characters in Tolkien's stories … the prince of the Woodland Realm ….

"That's not possible," she whispered, voice barely audible. "You're … you're - ."

"Crazy?" He supplied, disappointment heavy in his voice as if he had already passed judgment on unspoken thoughts and words.

"Whimsical? Fantastical? Beyond belief?" Maria burst out, the words forced through her constricted throat. "Those are more appropriate choices, I think."

He was asking her to accept the improbable: Accept that he was a character from Tolkien's Middle Earth, in the flesh. He asked her to accept the truth of his statement, moreover his sanity, at face value. Heart and mind warred with one another while she struggled to find a coherent thought that she could express to him.

"But I assure you, it's not," Greenly replied firmly, saving her from her own torturous inner monologue.

"You confuse me," she admitted, her voice no louder than a whisper. Her heart pounded harshly against her rib cage. "Do you have any idea - ."

"What I sound like? A crazy fan of Tolkien and Jackson, taking things a bit too far? Or perhaps I am simply a lunatic who fastened onto the first fantastical world that struck my fancy?" He queried as if he had heard the same questions before.

"Yes," she whispered.

Without warning, Greenly's left arm swept toward his slacks and then moved across his right hand. A stream of Thick red flowed from his right palm and onto the frozen stones below. Gasping, Maria reached for the wounded hand but found herself staggering within the emptiness.

"Watch!" Greenly commanded angrily. Her eyes immediately fell upon the deep gash in his large palm. Blood continued to pour over the sides of his palm for several long moments.

Several seconds passed before the blood stopped flowing from the wound. At first, she assumed that his body had simply started to produce the clotting agent until she noted the cut seemed so much smaller than it had been less than a minute before.

Before she could blink again, the gash had sewn itself together leaving dark red stains across his hand. Maria instinctively pressed her hands against her mouth to suppress the gasp of surprise that threatened to escape her throat. Fumbling fingers traced the smooth, unblemished skin in wonder while she attempted to fight the tears that painfully pricked at the edges of her eyes sockets.

"How? Why?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Because," he began, long fingers trapping hers within his palm. " – there was no other way to prove to you that I tell the truth and I am who I say that I am."

Maria continued to cradle his bare hand as if possession alone could answer her questions. Surprised, unwelcome tears pricked at the edges of her eyes and caused her eye sockets to ache.

"You hurt yourself to prove a point?" She questioned rhetorically, attempting to overcome the congestion in her voice. Her voice quavered as she kept her gaze focused on his perfect, creamy white skin. Again, she felt the familiar sensation of fingers beneath her chin. "You – you can't _do_ something like that!" Warm laughter followed her indignant declaration before his face settled into a mischievous grin.

"But I already _have_," he replied mirthfully. "Ah, Maria, you are so easy to _tease_. S_o much fun!_"

Thousands of tiny, invisible needles pricked every inch of her skin. Bare humiliation pushed her stomach downward until it bottomed out and the sensation of acidic bile crept up her throat. Turning her face away, she allowed the cursed internal voices to chastise her for her weakness.

"Okay," she replied, careful to maintain a neutral voice. "You certainly _can_ do whatever you please. But what I don't understand is why I -."

Words were literally removed from her throat as his mouth engulfed hers. Instinctively, her left hand plunged into his blonde, silken locks until her palm cupped the back of his head. Greenly – _Legolas_ – wrapped his arms around her and she found her body pressed against the hard, frigid stones of the Greenwood manor.

Unlike the woods, Legolas' kiss was far more gentle but simultaneously more intense. Strong, full lips carefully teased her mouth open before drawing her lower lip between his teeth. Despite her best efforts, a low moan escaped her throat as her eyes fluttered closed in the wake of the sensual assault upon her mouth.

Blood thundered in her ears, time slipped away, and every thought fled her mind. Her hands gingerly rested on his broad, muscular shoulders, belying the true power and strength of his body. Slowly, the kiss tapered off until they were left staring at one another in the darkness, tendrils of white smoke dissipated in the air around them.

"Now that I have your attention," he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone. Elegant fingers moved his long, golden hair aside to reveal a perfectly leaf-shaped ear. He took her index and middle fingers, bringing it to the outer rim of the shell, and drew the tips over the shape. Maria was speechless as she traced the gently sloping appendage.

'It must be plastic surgery,' she thought. 'This isn't natural, this shape …."

"Throughout the ages, since I came to walk amongst your kind, in your world, I have sought ways to change my ears so that I appear mortal," Legolas remarked. A breath caught silently in her throat as she attempted to imagine a brick wall to shut out an unasked for invasion of her thoughts.

"My ears have borne exterior devices, been clipped, and at last I even attempted artificial, cosmetic reconstruction," he continued. "Yet no matter what the treatment, my ear refused to retain the same shape as a mortal's."

Elvin, unearthly, immortal – the words echoed in her mind as the reality penetrated the layers of skeptical life experience she had acquired. She could rationalize away the ears, the strange speech patterns, and the odd behavior. The instantly self-healing laceration could not be explained away with sleight of hand or other trickery because they were tucked into an exterior corner of his grand home.

If she accepted his words as truth, this Legolas had managed to blend in with humanity for a very long time. A very, _very_ long time.


	17. Chapter 17

Her fingers tightened around the hem of the afghan draped over her shoulders but her mind was elsewhere, worlds away. She could hear the wood crackle and pop in the fireplace but her peripheral vision only registered the light of the flames. She had perched herself on the arm of an overstuffed brown leather chair. Draped across the leather sofa, Legolas also seemed engrossed in the dancing flames.

Maria noted, absently, neither of them seemed to want to break the silence of the room.

After his revelation, he had led her back into the manor and up to a room that she did not recognize. Step by step, she had followed him without observing her surroundings. Stunned, curious, and irritated, she watched as the self-described 'elf' closed the door to the room.

His hands made instant work of the coat she wore, draping it over the leather furniture that formed a 'U' in front of the giant fireplace. Seconds later the coat was replaced by a thick, heavy afghan draped around her shoulders. Legolas stood before her and gently brought the afghan around her shoulders. He had gestured to one of the chairs before he sprawled his long, lithe body over the matching furniture.

"You know Tolkien's story of what happened in Middle Earth," Legolas whispered. Silently, Maria praised herself for not physically reacting to his words. "But he only wrote his version of events.

Immediately, she turned her head in his direction but his face remained turned toward the fireplace.

"Sure, I read, 'The Hobbit' and 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy when I was younger," she replied, matter-of-factly. "I saw Peter Jackson's movies."

"You read and saw the romantic imaginings of mortals, of Men," he replied, his tone bemused. "The truth is far more complicated. The best analogy would be the Disney version of the old-world fairytales."

Golden firelight danced in his eyes and she practically felt herself turn to liquid. Yet there was something dangerous in his stare and Maria knew she needed to harden both her heart and mind against his attempts at manipulations. Information, a lot more information, was required so that she could make a decision about her immediate future.

'Hell, I do not even know how to clear my conscience at this point,' she thought.

"Then _uncomplicate_ it for me, _please_, Legolas," Maria urged him. The elf adjusted himself, sitting upright with his hands clasped before him between his thighs.

"First, you must understand that there is no such thing as 'The Undying Lands'," he said. "It is a metaphor for the concepts of 'heaven' or 'purgatory.' But the concept has only existed among my kind just as that."

"I've never been much for organized religion or mythology," she muttered.

"Then perhaps you need to reexamine your belief system," Legolas retorted sharply. She reflexively tugged the afghan more tightly around her shoulders. She felt distinctly uncomfortable with the thought of a lecture on faith from a man, no, Elf who was likely older than dirt.

"'There are more things in Heaven and Earth –'."

"Yes, Shakespeare, thank you," she cut him of irritably. "You were explaining to me how a beloved story that millions believe to be fantasy is actually some version of the truth." Maria did not mean to be so curt with him but her patience was wearing thin.

Slowly, the Elf rose to his full height and turned toward the darkened part of the room. A dim, yellow light lit a corner of the room and her only response was to blink as she attempted to focus. He stood with his back slightly hunched, moving his hands around accompanied by the soft tinkling of glass and even softer noise of liquid filling a glass.

"Jack Daniels, straight," he murmured as he extended the tumbler toward her. She wrapped her hand around the thick glass and her fingers brushed against his. The strong scent of the Tennessee whiskey infiltrated her nostrils and created the sensation of burning within the thinly covered cartilage. Raising the glass to her lips she took a liberal swallow of the amber liquid.

The burn continued like a river of fire down her throat. Tears briefly formed in her lower eyelids but a few swift eyeblinks dispelled them.

"Thank you," she could not help but rasp. A brief glance upward and her gaze fell on a knowing smirk. "Okay, so I typically have a mixer with my whiskey." Maria giggled, taking another swig, and was greeted with the sound of light laughter.

'Like tinkling bells,' she observed silently. '_Masculine_, tinkling bells.'

"Yes, I noticed that during the masquerade ball," he replied. "Anyway, if I may …." She lifted her tumbler and made a gesture for him to continue.

"Once upon a time, I was a prince and heir to the throne of Eryn Lesgalyn," he began. "My life was fairly dull in its predictability: Hours on end of patrolling the kingdom, training, and making the required appearances beside my father as crown prince of the realm.

"My life continued in that way for a millennium until the day that Thorin Oakenshield and his company stumbled into the borders of our realm."

Maria opened her mouth but the Elf immediately lifted his own tumbler in a gesture to silence her.

"I know you have read Tolkien's books and I know you have Jackson's films, melleth-amin," Legolas said. "No, there was no 'Tauriel'. She was an invention of Peter Jackson to draw as many young people to the theatres as possible. Ellyth were not encouraged to join the guard and none ever tried. And the name, 'Tauriel' is not even of our languages." He chuckled, mostly to himself as he drained his glass.

"It was many hours after the dwarves had crossed our boundary and been shown to our dungeon that I felt the spark of curiosity for the lands outside our own," he said. "My father had been king of the realm for more than five millennia and as time moved forward he perpetually erred on the side of caution.

"Oakenshield and his company had appeared in time for the annual Feast of Starlight my father hosted. Rarely did we have visitors of other races and our normal practice was to be welcoming to guests. Perhaps I was too young but I could not understand why we had imprisoned another king and his contingent within our walls."

Maria took another swallow of her drink and the glass then empty. Suddenly, her hand was as empty as the tumbler and she could hear the familiar sound of liquid against the sides of the glass. Legolas pressed the glass into her hand.

"I spent hours speaking with the dwarves, despite their hatred for the Eldar, and those conversations kindled a desperate desire for something beyond the lands of my kin."

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to sip on the alcohol again while she waited for Legolas to continue with his tale. Almost as if he was mimicking her, he lifted the rim of the tumbler to his lips and poured more of the brown liquid into his mouth.

"I was raised to believe that myself, and my kin, were superior to those of any other race," he remarked absently. "My father continually drilled into my head that anyone who was not an Eldar and who was not a subject of our kingdom was an other, an _outsider_. We needed to protect our kind against outsiders."

"It didn't seem to take with you," Maria observed. Chuckling, the Elf rose to his full height and retreated to the wet bar in the corner.

"No, not at all," he agreed. "You remember Fili, Thorin's nephew, his sister Dis' son?"

"If by 'remember' you mean, 'do I recall the story?' Then, yes," she drawled.

"Well," he continued, thrusting a refreshed glass into her face. "You know _of_ Fili. It was he, Fili, who shook me from my monotonous existence."

**Legolas smirked into his goblet as his eyes followed the dwarf across the Great Hall as he approached a small group of gossiping ellyth. Although tall for a dwarf, the Crown Prince of Erebor stood at least three inches shorter than the shortest of the females of his race. Dressed in a pair of black leather leggings and a matching tunic that held the emblems of his station, Fili approached the females with the same confidence and self-assuredness as any other royal Legolas had encountered. **

** Eyes scanning the hallway, his gaze fell on Thorin Oakenshield and his own advisors who hovered a few feet away from his father. The elder ellon turned his own stare toward his son but Legolas managed to avert his gaze back to where Fili was speaking to the beautiful young ellyth. **

** Nelweineth, eldest daughter of his father's principal advisor, stood at her full height with her arms crossed over her chest – generously sized for an elleth – as the dwarf prince continued to speak to her. A perfectly arched, dark eyebrow rose over her left eye while Fili's hand gestures grew larger and more elaborate. **

** "I would venture to place a wager but we all know how this will end," a new voice pierced his concentration. Legolas could not prevent the enormous smile that lit up his face as he glanced down. **

** Dressed in equally elaborate dwarven finery, Kili also used his golden goblet as a shield from public scrutiny. A full-blown smirk curled up the edges of his mouth as he waited for the younger dwarf to continue speaking.**

** "Sweet Eru, Legolas!" the darker dwarf exclaimed. "Do you not desire a young, innocent Elf maiden to warm your bed this night?"**

** Rolling his eyes, he placed his goblet on the table next to which he stood. The younger dwarf prince smirked before he turned toward his elder brother. Contrary to Legolas' prediction, the blonde dwarf had managed to coax the frigid elleth onto the dance floor. Her fiery red hair flowed around her shoulders while Fili led her around the floor. **

** "I do not know where he learned his fancy footwork," Kili admitted. "I do know that my brother has an **_**insatiable**_** appetite for adventure."**

** "True enough," the Elvan prince replied. "But it is a weakness, and an easily exploited one, for the heir to a throne." **

** "I would not know, highness," Kili replied. "And if the Valar smile upon me, I **_**never **_**will know."**

** The music transitioned into something far more lively. Legolas watched as the heir to Erebor bowed and gently kissed the back of Nelweineth's hand. Much to his surprise, the elleth blushed in response and Fili merely winked at her. Any words exchanged had been lost in the sounds of instruments, other voices, and swishing fabric. **

** "She is a fiery one beneath that frigid exterior she projects," Fili announced, grabbing the chalice from his brother's hand and finishing the wine with three hearty gulps. Legolas watched his Adam's apple bounce thrice before he handed the empty vessel to Kili. The younger dwarf promptly muttered something in Khuzdul earning him a raised eyebrow from his brother. **

** "There is plenty of wine, brother," was all Fili had to say. Chuckling, the blonde elf observed Kili wander away toward one of the makeshift refilling stations positioned throughout the hall. **

** "Your father certainly knows how to throw a hell of a party," Fili remarked. "Although this is my first time at an elvan gathering in perhaps twenty years." Light blue eyes slid toward him while he waited for the response. **

** "I find it hard to believe that you have kept the company of any of my kin before this night," Legolas replied, though his curiosity was piqued. The dwarf waved a hand around in the air in front of his face. **

** "The last festival I attended was the feast of the malloryn in Lothlorien about fifty years ago," Fili replied. "'Lorien eleves certainly know how to have a good time. But, I must admit, your kind tends to be more **_**sociable**_** and **_**entertaining**_** when outside the strictures of your respective realms." **

** "Such as?" Legolas pushed, his tone teasing. **

** "Such as that strapping young elf over there from Rivendell," Fili replied, lifting his elbow in the direction of a rather tall sentinel who had accompanied Lord Elrond to Eryn Lesgalyn. Long hair the color onyx hung in a waterfall to the elf's waist and two warrior's braids swinging over his shoulders. He was dressed in the same dull, violet-silver tunic and leggings as the other seneschals in the Rivendell party, barely hiding the muscles beneath the fabric. Bormenion, the name flittered briefly through Legolas' mind from the brief set of introductions that had been provided several days prior to the feast. **

** Pure happiness glinted in the darker Eldar's powder-blue eyes as he unabashedly raked his gaze over the smaller, blonde Woodland guard seated beside him. The ellon was part of Legolas' own contingent, Gwonil, and never had he seen him so relaxed. Perhaps Fili's theory held some merit. **

** "And you, prince of the Woodland Realm," the dwarf interrupted his thoughts. "What is required to pull you from your internal, **_**eternal**_** self-reflection?" **

** Legolas chuckled in response though he kept his gaze focused on the goblet in his hand. Light from the innumerable candles in the hall glinted from the metal vessel and partially blinded him. **

** "Ah, Master Dwarf, some day soon you will understand the grave responsibilities - ."**

** "Rubbish and nonsense!" Fili exclaimed. "You are about to tell me about your responsibilities as Captain of the Woodland Guard and Crown Prince of Eryn Lesgalyn. Tell me, Highness, when was the last time you did something purely for your own self-satisfaction? When was the last time you ran for the sheer pleasure of running? When did you last stare at the night sky and wonder at the spectacular view?**

** "When did you last make love instead of blindly mate with the willing to satisfy the need?"**

** Pushing through the alcoholic haze, the Elvan prince meditated on the dwarf's questions and found himself intensely irritated. When he lifted his head to respond, he found only empty space and he was once more alone. He glanced around and realized that the eyes of the nobility had directed its haughty, harsh, and judgmental stare in his direction. **

** And, for the first time in a millennium, Legolas realized he did not care. **

** "Based on **_**that **_**definition, I do not think I have made love at all," Legolas murmured. The shorter creature clasped his shoulder and lifted his own goblet to make a toast.**

** "That, Master Elf, is the first step toward living a life a little less ordinary," Fili remarked, winking at him before chugging the contents.**

** And that was how he found himself, nearly three days later, on Asfaloth's back as he led the party of dwarves – and hobbit – toward their next destination in the quest to reclaim Erebor. **

"Wait a moment," Maria interjected suddenly. "So you're saying that Thorin and company were invited to the Feast of Starlight? They weren't kept in the Greenwood dungeons and Bilbo didn't risk his life with the One Ring to rescue them?

"No barrel-riding adventure down the river? Laketown?"

She opened her mouth to continue asking questions but was, again, silenced and this time by a thumb that pressed against her lips before teasing the outline. Blinking rapidly, she glanced up and through her eyelashes but was met with darkened haze.

Legolas gently tilted her chin upward until she was forced to meet his gaze. A mysterious smirk and a wink was her response.

"As I said, a lot of the stories were the romantic imaginings of a mortal man," he replied, brushing his thumb over her cheek before dropping his hand altogether. "Like any myth, there are kernels of truth hidden in the stories."

Maria attempted to process the dual shock of his words and absence of his physical touch.

"In spite of the hostilities between dwarves and Eldar, my father knew that Thorin was the heir to the throne of Erebor and as such deserved the same respect he would show to any other dignitary from any other part of Arda," he continued.

"If you want to uncover the true motives of your enemies then it is far easier to observe them free than to hope they will reveal their true intentions locked away in some cell."

Suddenly, Maria felt too warm with the weight of the afghan around her shoulders and she shed the extra layer. A refreshed glass was pressed into her hand and she nearly dropped it. She had a nagging suspicion that Legolas' actions were motivated by his enjoyment of how easily she could be tilted off-balance.

"So Bilbo was not the hero that night," Maria mused. "There was no great escape from the dungeons, no barrel riding, and no rescue by Bard?"

Legolas shook his head.

"Well, it was embellished a tad," he replied. "My adar was never aware that Bilbo was in the palace, thanks to the ring. In fact, I did not know that Bilbo had been in the palace at all until about three days later when I was escorting Thorin's party through the Greenwood."

"A royal escort," she remarked. "Tolkien and Jackson really _did_ get it wrong."

**His entire body had suddenly grown rigid as Asfaloth crossed the invisible border between Eryn Lesgalyn and the free, open land between the realms. Three hundred years had passed since he last crossed the border of the realm that separated his father's kingdom from that of the mortal territories. **

** "Prince Legolas!" Kili's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Legolas."**

** The young dwarf carried himself on the pony with as much dignity as any other creature riding a beast of burden. **

** "Master Kili," Legolas greeted him, silently wishing that his brother had been the one to reach the front of the traveling party. **

** "Fili fares as well as possible," Kili offered. "My uncle has assumed possession of his pony's bridle as my brother sleeps." **

** Both Legolas and Kili chuckled, the image of the blonde dwarf draped over a pony made itself prominently known in his mind. His keen hearing noted that the dwarves had fallen about fifty yards behind. Gently, he tugged on the horse's reigns to slow him slightly. **

** "I – I know your father is not pleased," the young dwarf continued, hesitantly. The elf snorted as he recalled the shouting match with his father several hours prior to their departure. **

** Thranduil did not understand why a smaller contingent from the king's personal guard could not bring the Durins and company to the edge of the forest. At first, Legolas attempted to explain it away as a show of good faith or a sign of respect towards another royal family. Eventually, he admitted that Fili's tales of adventure and open invitation to join them had piqued his curiosity. **

** His sharpened memory recalled every word, every gesture, every movement for the full thirty minutes of their debate in his father's study. Finally, the elven king had thrown up his hands in resignation. **

_**"'Then go, ion-min, and see the world you are so eager to meet'," his adar had pronounced in exasperation. **_

_** "'Adar, too long have you lived behind these walls, hidden away deep within these caves,'" He had said. "'When did you last travel outside the realm? During the War for the Ring? One would think you are afraid - .'" **_

_** Before he could finish his sentence, his father's longsword was being held against his throat so tightly that the small swallow he risked open a cut against his skin. **_

_** "'I said you may go, Legolas,'" Thranduil hissed. "'You may be my son but I am still king of Greenwood and I will be insulted by no Eldar nor have my honor questioned.**_

_** "'You will escort your charges to Dale under the protection of my guard. After that, well, may the Valar protect you.'"**_

** "Everyone must make his own way in the world," Legolas murmured. **

** "What was that?" Kili inquired. **

** "Hmm?" The Elven prince hummed, still lost in thought. "Oh, nothing really. In any event, Prince Kili, we must make haste before nightfall else we are forced to add more days to this journey."**

** "We will not stop until we have reached the lake," a third voice interrupted. Rolling his eyes, Legolas turned in his saddle to see the king of Erebor steadily advancing on his pony. **

** "But uncle, that means we will likely need to ride through the night," Kili protested. **

** "Then it shall be done," Thorin snapped. "We must reach the mountain before the end of Durin's Day, **_**nephew**_**." **

** The dwarf king urged his pony farther but Legolas extended an arm to prevent him from passing his own horse. **

** "No, master dwarf, it is my responsibility to see you safely through the kingdom," he said, ignoring Thorin's sputtering. **

** "I am perfectly capable of leading this company - ."**

** "And so you are but my father would prefer it if your journey was at least partially guarded from the … natural hazards," Legolas cut him off. "Please, your Majesty." **

** He slowed his horse to allow the remainder of the company to catch up to them. There was no doubt, no room for discussion or debate, only the promise of eminent exhaustion as the party pushed forward toward their next destination, should the dwarven king have his way. **


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note: Generally speaking, I hate these but it seems as if I owe the waning audience some semblance of an explanation for my sporadic, infrequent updates. To be frank, my muse has not been as loyal lately as I would have hoped. The story escapes me but I know it must be finished, no matter what. **_

Maria stared silently into the flames; externally calm while internally her thoughts moved at light speed. Though she would never call herself a true Tolkien fan, she knew enough about Middle Earth to understand the references made to Gollum's strange speech or the One Ring. Her mind raced through her existing acquaintances and, more importantly, friends who would still be willing to give her a place to stay until she could support herself again.

"Are you _very_ disappointed?"

Her snapped upward toward the sound of the Elf – Eldar's voice. Leaning against the mantle, his tall, slender form was illuminated by the fire of reds, yellows, and oranges. The light flickered against his face and in his long, golden hair – hair that had been released from the low ponytail in which it was usually kept.

"I – I'm – I'm sorry?" she stuttered. "I'm sorry, I … why would I be disappointed?" Before he could respond, she huffed audibly and closed her eyes to process the information she had just been provided.

"Your questions," he began, tilting his face toward her. "You are more familiar with Tolkien and Jackson than you care to admit."

"If you're expecting me to be ashamed or embarrassed then _you're_ going to be disappointed," she replied in a tone she hoped was projected as evenly as it sounded to her ears. Her gaze remained fixed on him, unsure of what to expect and thereby anticipating _anything_ from him.

"No, hardly," Legolas chuckled, turning his head toward her. Firelight glinted from his eyes and, although she could not see it clearly, she suspected his face was frozen in one of his now infamous smirks. "In fact, it is a trait of yours that I admire and even envy at times."

"There is more to this story, a lot more," Maria concluded. Legolas pushed himself away from the fireplace mantle and took slow, calculated steps toward her. His movements were meant to intimidate her but she had reached the limits of her endurance. Hands folded, she rose to her full height and forced herself to hold his stare. Several long, uncomfortable moments passed between them.

"Yes, yes there is more, _much_ more," Legolas finally acquiesced. He took another step and wrapped his large hands around her upper arms. A cold shiver literally ran up her spine while his fingers slid to her own.

"But I do not think that now is the right time to continue this conversation." Gently, he lifted both of her hands to his lips as his eyes rolled upward to meet Maria's hazel-green eyes. Immediately, her breath hitched in her throat but her heart began thudding harshly against her rib cage. The sides of his mouth curled up in a grin, sapphire eyes glinting mischievously and she suddenly felt like prey to a deadly predator.

Discomfort and tension rippled through her muscles, tendons, and ligaments.

"Then what is it the right time for, Legolas?" Maria countered, suppressing the urge to wince at the sound of her pathetic, cracking voice. Slowly, the Eldar brought her arms around his neck and leaned forward until his forehead pressed against hers.

"For me to make love to you," he blurted out. Even as she blinked she felt his lips crash over her own. His kiss was far more passionate, commandeering, and intense than the others they had shared. The strength in her legs ebbed away and she felt herself plummeting, knees-first, toward the wood floor. Her momentum was stopped and simultaneously reversed upward until she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist.

The kiss slowed and Maria ventured to crack her eyes open long enough to see a triumphant grin on his face. Her instincts were at war to either continue or to pull away and demand some sort of answer from him. She knew that she was treading a very fine line with him.

"Legolas, no, wait, _please_," she pleaded between his kisses. Chest heaving, the Eldar pressed his forehead against hers while his eyes remained closed. "Th – this is all moving _much too fast_."

He did not release her from his grasp. Instead, and she would swear to it later, he seemed to struggle with his own breathing and control. Moments later, she felt his lips press against her forehead while he wrapped his arms around her. Immediately, she pressed her hands against his chest while she attempted to ignore both the pins and needles against her skin and the precipitous drop of her stomach. The sockets around her eyes began to ache with the effort to keep her tears at bay.

He pressed a second kiss against her temple while his index and middle fingers caressed her left cheekbone. His nose dipped into the space between her neck and shoulder, gently nuzzling the skin. A soft sigh escaped her lungs as Legolas drew her flesh into his mouth.

"Legolas …," she whispered absently, any semblance of self-control or rational seemed to evaporate. His ministrations stopped suddenly but she felt warm puffs of air released against her sensitive skin. The Elf released a loud, determined sigh just before the sucking sensation returned to her neck.

His lips trailed gently up the column of her throat, over her chin, and finally settled on her dry, chapped lips. Maria was only able to emit a tiny squeak before the Elf's tongue fully invaded her mouth. An errant hand clasped the right side of his face and her fingertips came into contact with smooth skin, free from prickly stubble. Long, warm fingers interlaced through hers while he slowly brought her hand down from his cheek.

A brief pang lanced through her chest from the loss of physical intimacy between them. Then, as if he had read her mind, strong, tugging movements pulled her shirt away from her body. Bare, calloused fingertips gently stroked the flesh His kisses grew longer, slower, and finally he drew his face away from her.

"Maria," he murmured, eyelids fluttering closed while his chest and shoulders heaved beneath her hands. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Le – Legolas, please, just stop and hear me for a moment," she said, her voice low. "You have just told me, shown me, that Tolkien's Middle Earth - ."

"Certainly _not _Tolkien's anything," he interrupted, a sharp edge to his voice. Maria lifted her eyes and leveled her most displeased glare at him. Her heart thudded uncontrollably against her chest and her knees felt weak. He at least had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at his outburst.

"Okay, fine," she snapped. "Whatever. But in my world, these were merely stories, fantastical works of fiction that captured the imaginations of many. And here I am, making out with a creature that up until two hours ago I thought was a character in that same story. I may just be a simple human but, for Chrissakes, you need to give my mind a few moments to catch up before you try to seduce me."

"Seduce you? Please, melleth-amin, you are so _vain_ sometimes," he retorted, an amused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth.

Pinpricks of humiliation ran over her skin and heated her cheeks. Never in her life, as far back as she could possibly recall, had she ever allowed someone to disrespect her and tolerate it.

"Fine, okay," she said, voice quavering as she forced herself backward and away from him. A small corner of her mind was aware that her actions would have serious consequences but she was too tired and too flustered to be concerned with what those consequences could be.

"No, no wait, I am …," he trailed off. Before she could blink, she found herself pinned against the wall opposite the fireplace, arms held above her head. "… I am sorry. I did not mean to insult or disrespect you."

Maria immediately turned her face to her left and rested her chin on her shoulder. Seconds later, warm lips fastened on the bare flesh of her neck. An involuntary cry emitted from her throat and she realized that she was losing the war against her hormones and her inner desires.

"Why?" She whispered before his strong mouth crashed over hers. Further protests were cut off as his tongue invaded her mouth, tangling with her own.


	19. Chapter 19

Maria felt light-headed, drunk as she attempted to absorb Legolas' assault on her mouth. She was barely aware that the world tipped and her back was pressed against something soft.

'I am that woman from those god-awful romance novels,' the thought blared in her mind as loudly as a car's horn. 'Allowing myself to be seduced by that sexy, otherworldly man – Eldar – ugh! What the hell am I doing?!'

"Maria?" The sound of her name shook her internal reverie.

Vision clearing, she found herself trapped beneath Legolas' body as the pleasurable aspects of their contact vanished. Swallowing hard, she forced her head to her left so that she could avoid his direct glare.

But the challenge had been proclaimed between them.

"Legolas," she sighed. A large, warm hand cupped the right side of her face and carefully, pulling her forward until she was forced to meet his intense sapphire stare. Even as she opened her mouth again to speak he promptly cut off any words with another breath-stealing kiss. Her hands lanced through his long blonde tresses to clasp the back of his head and keep him close.

His own hands were equally busy running up the sides of her torso and then slipping beneath her sweater. Her skin felt blisteringly hot and sensitive as the fabric of camisole was gently pulled from the waistband of her jeans. Calloused, dexterous finger tips gingerly rested on her waist. The intense stare continued and Maria was almost positive that sweat had broken out on her forehead while the Eldar remained cool, calm, and collected.

His Adam's Apple bobbed against his throat, the only other indication that he was at all affected, but never once did he avert his eyes from hers. A silent question, palpable question pulsed between them. Instead, her eyes dropped to his waist while her fingers searched beneath his sweater for the waistband of his pants.

'Oh, gods, _what_ am I _doing_? I'm behaving like some sort of stupid, depraved teenaged virgin,' she thought errantly as she unfastened the button and slowly pulled down the zipper.

Legolas inhaled sharply and his eyelids fluttered until his sapphire gaze was half-lidded. The erection that strained against the denim was released and fell into her hand. Only a thin layer of cotton fabric separated her own fingers from his hard, heated flesh. Some combination of a groan and grunt escaped his throat before he brought his mouth to hers in yet another passionate, breath-stealing kiss.

About thirty seconds passed before hands flew and clothes were ripped away from bodies. Warm, soft lips trailed along her cheek, toward her mouth while her hands eagerly reached around to squeeze his firm, muscular ass. A sharp inhalation through his nose emboldened her to continue with her exploration of his body. She wanted to draw out more of these reactions from him as long as she could.

Her hands slowly slid up the smooth, pale skin of his back while gently kneading the taut muscles beneath. A loud moan rumbled through his throat and alerted her that he enjoyed, or at least appreciated her efforts to please him. Once her hands reached his shoulder blades, she found herself pressed tightly against Legolas' body with one arm while his right hand gently cradled her face.

"So, _so_ _beautiful_," he whispered as his sapphire eyes roved over her exposed body. "_Why_ did it take _so long_ for me to find _you_?"

An alarm klaxon blared through her mind but her train of thought was immediately interrupted by another searing kiss. Maria gasped into his mouth as he swiftly lifted her from her feet and drew her into his arms, their mouths never broke contact. Slowly, conscious thought and common sense seemed to fade away in the wake of the sensual pleasure that overwhelmed her.

Once they broke apart, she found herself completely unable to meet his eyes as waves of lust, guilt, and sadness washed over her.

"Maria," a voice whispered. "Open your eyes, _meleth-nin_. Look at me."

Until that moment, she had been unaware that her eyes had been clenched shut. Carefully, she peeled open an eyelid followed by the other. Legolas' face swam before her eyes, blurry. Her left hand gently caressed the right side of his face while she attempted to bring the world into focus.

At any moment, she expected the swimming sensation to dissolve into nausea. Maria continued to blink until the colors and fuzzy shapes sharpened into clear images. Instinctively, she sucked in a deep breath to steady both her erratic heartbeat and her nerves.

Legolas' angelic face screwed into an expression of dismay. She wanted nothing more than to kiss the worry and stress away from his fair features. A being so perfect should not be burdened with something as mundane as the feelings of a mere mortal.

'Because that is all you are,' the errant voice echoed through Maria's mind. 'You are nothing more than an accessory, a footnote to this story and you have the audacity to somehow believe you are worth something more.'

"You fear me," he breathed, horrified. Involuntarily, a shudder coursed through her body and she immediately turned her head to the left and away from his intense stare.

"No!" She snapped, her face simultaneously jerked upward to confront him. His eyebrow rose close to his hairline while his mouth clenched into a straight, tight line. "No, I don't fear you … Legolas. But I won't deny that I'm completely and utterly confused."

Before she could blink, his large left hand cradled the right side of her face.

"What have I done to confuse you?" The Eldar murmured, trapping her in his unwavering stare. 'Trapped', in fact, seemed to be the only word to accurately describe her predicament.

"Your – your … _mood swings_," she sputtered. "One moment, I feel as if you're angry with me and want to punish me. The next moment, you're kind, sweet, and gentle. Yet a moment later, you're cold and aloof, as if you cannot escape my presence fast enough."

Maria squeezed her eyes shut, willing her heart to slow down so that she could breathe and chase away the light-headedness that threatened to overwhelm her. Any second, Legolas would terminate her from her position and, more likely than not, condemn her to the frigid outdoors.

"Mood swings?" He repeated dumbly. Reflexively, Maria's face scrunched into an expression that she never wished to see in a mirror or photograph.

"Well … yes!" She exclaimed, confidence suddenly flowed through her in a warm wave. "One moment you're angry and nasty toward me. Then, you turn on a dime, and you're sweet and gentle with me. Sorry, just a weak, idiotic mortal here, so I don't get the cosmic joke, or order of things …."

"Stop," he commanded, the word was spoken softly yet the tone of his voice was pure steel. "You're babbling, _melleth_. If you were anyone else, your ramblings would, possibly, be cute, maybe endearing, but with you it is nothing less than annoying. _Stop_."

A sharp, painful sensation sliced through her gut. Embarrassment, sharp and intense needles, rolled over her skin and ignited her instinct to fly as opposed to fight. Even if he continued to speak, her heartbeat escalated so that the pounding blood filled her ears and consequently drowned out anything he may have said.

"Maria!" His hands wrapped around her upper arms as he gently shook her body.

She was torn between retreating further into herself or confronting _him_, Legolas, the Eldar from Tolkien's Middle Earth. Was she to be a footnote, a nothing, a Mary Sue in someone's fanfiction? Even a dull, run-of-the-mill death would be preferable to that of a manipulated pawn in someone else's game.

"No, I think it's time for _you_ to stop," she snarled, hurling herself backward until her body collided with the large wall beside the fireplace.


End file.
